


love, aaron

by dingletragedy



Category: Emmerdale, robron
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 3, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship, Smut, best friends brother, falling in love over emails and then again irl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy
Summary: Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, then the next I’m at rock bottom.For the most part, I’m you typical 19 year old boy. I have a less than normal family, spend my weekends watching footie and drinking more than I can handle, and can’t wait to finally escape this damn college.But I have one huge secret.Nobody knows I’m Bisexual.Sometimes I wonder if I really am all alone in this, or if there’s others out there who feel the same, trying to get by being half of the whole they know they could be.Red.--Or: a Love, Simon AU with a twist.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle & Chas Dingle, Aaron Dingle & Liv Flaherty, Aaron Dingle & Victoria Sugden, Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden, Adam Barton/Victoria Sugden
Comments: 34
Kudos: 127
Collections: Emmerdale Big Bang Round 3 2019





	love, aaron

**Author's Note:**

> so, here! It is!!! finally!!!!! between finishing uni, having surgery, and in the last couple of weeks, starting a new job n dealing with some shit, i have finally, FINALLY, finished my big bang!!!! i’m SO proud of myself for completing something like this - especially considering this time last year i hadn’t written a single word of fiction in my life (well, except maybe in year 8 english classes, but you know!) 
> 
> a large majority of this fic has been written whilst on my commute to work - aka when i’m still half asleep - so i’m not going to promise you anything amazing! in fact, it's a bit of a mess and maybe not that good at all but i’ve enjoyed writing it so, so much! like nothing i’ve ever done before! 
> 
> anyway - please take care of my baby!!!! 
> 
> i just want to thank everyone who has encouraged me and supported me throughout the whole process of this fic - i wouldn’t of been able to, or wanted to, do it without you! i love you all, and i want to dedicate it to you brilliant guys! – especially my amazing, wonderful artist @dingleminyard
> 
> i hope you all like this, and i'm positive you’ll all agree that coralie’s art is the most perfect and beautiful and SOFT compliment to this fic - which you can find here!
> 
> so, annnnyway, i present to you my big bang!
> 
> i really, really hope you enjoy!

The cold has already made its claim on Emmerdale village yet despite the chill that curls around autumn, there’s always something that feels fresh about it. Damp leaves and dark oranges, and when it’s cold enough, there’ll be white icy dew on the grass and the windows across the street will glaze over like a crystal clear rink. Aaron mostly lives Autumn for the little pocket of quiet time between alarms buzzing and cars starting and the sizzle of telephone lines humming into life, for he can take a moment to appreciate the pretence simplicity that comes with living in this little village.  
  
And then he’ll climb out of bed, let the needle drop on a record, breathe with the fuzz, and start getting ready for another day of letting that simpleness mask the fact that the way he feels about Emmerdale is usually anything but.  
  
This morning it’s The Stone Roses playing loud because he can already hear his mum pottering around the kitchen downstairs and the shower has been running for fifteen minutes now, Liv’s own music slipping out from under the crack in the door and floating down the hallway. There isn’t really a better way to start his morning than to mimicking Ian Brown down a hairbrush turned microphone, shoulders swaying back and forth while he dances in front of the mirror.

“Nice dance moves.”

Aaron stops dead, his hairbrush flying from his grip and landing awkwardly near where his little sister is standing in the doorway, fighting a smile. 

In a moment of panic, he crosses the room and closes the door abruptly on her face.

“No need to be embarrassed, Aaron.”

“You’re supposed to knock, idiot,” Aaron says, flushed. He hears her laugh. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Liv replies through the door. “Breakfast is you’re ready, Gallagher.”

Aaron cracks the door open, just to glare at her. “It’s The Stone Roses, actually.”

“Well, I am sorry,” Liv says, mock-apologetic. She pokes her finger through the door to jab at his stomach, which he twists away from. “Whatever it was, I’m sure it’ll impress all the rock-star girls of Hotten Academy today.”

Aaron bangs the door again then, the dull slam echoing throughout the house as he rests his head against the frame, groaning. He hears Liv laugh again, the sound wandering back down the hall and downstairs with her. Taking in a slow breath, Aaron crosses the room and turns back to the mirror, staring at his reflection, still flushed pink. With a sigh, he ruffles his hair back into its usual unruly mess, and chucks his signature black hoodie on. 

He crosses the room and lifts the needle off his record, bringing the whole thing to a stop. What remains is the sound of Emmerdale village yawning into life, Liv’s terrible rendition of what he recognises as a Little Mix song drifting past his room and the buzz of Vic’s good morning text rattling his bedside table lightly.

 **[Vic, 08:23]** **_Oi hurry up will you, Robert is doing my head in this morning_** _,_ **_I need to get outta here_** _,_ it reads. 

Aaron rolls his eyes against it, it’s a text he’s more than familiar with these days. 

**[Aaron, 08:27]** **_Alright, alright, I’m coming, keep ya hair on._ **

Vic was Aaron's first real friend, his very best friend since his family moved to the village, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. He soon learnt that a best friend is someone who changes your life just by being part of it. It’s someone who understands your past and believes in your future, even when you don’t yourself. 

They were one and sharing their first birthday together, Sugden’s and Dingle’s united in the form of fizzing champagne and swirling face paints. 

They were six and making a list of rules to survive a lifelong friendship, buying best friend journals and stickers and poking sticks at worms and hiding them in Robert’s shoes, star gazing past clouds with telescopes made from toilet rolls and cellophane.

They were nine and spending more time at each other houses’ than their own, nighttime curling their eyelids gently shut at nine-thirty, sleepovers on the living room floor with toffee popcorn and sugary sweets, stomachs swirling.

They were eleven and the summer was filled with ice cream and sunburnt knees and sheets covered in scratchy sand, a family holiday for the Dingle’s and the Sugden’s, days spent spying on Robert and hiding behind Liv. 

They were thirteen and the winter days were blisteringly cold, only to melt away to nothing, the school football pitch littered with snow as they cheered on Robert from the side-lines. The older boy wreaking enough havoc in the village that no one noticed Aaron’s worried lip and red-rimmed eyes. 

They were sixteen and secretly crushing on the same boys, they were indulging family game nights and starting new schools, new beginnings. Beginnings that started with bright blue days and ended in navy blue nights, pinks and purples in between, crinkled polaroids and stolen vodka, dawning realisations and tears. 

But today they’re eighteen and soon they’ll be nineteen, out in the real world with college only a distant memory. The future is uncertain, but if there’s one thing Aaron know for sure, it’s that Victoria will be by his side throughout it all. 

He’d half expected it to go the other way, though, people lose friends all the time - when they grow older and move from one school to the next - but instead, him and Victoria had only grown closer with each passing year. And then came Adam and Holly, the Barton’s offspring, the newest and loudest family to turn the heads of the villagers. 

Holly was sweet, a year younger than Aaron and Victoria yet mature beyond their years. She always had a camera around her neck, a spring in her step and a smile on her face. She was quiet and thoughtful, the opposite of her younger brother, Adam. 

Adam was everything Aaron thought he’d hate in a friend, yet loved with such intensity it roared fire in his heart. He was an idiot, sure, but he was their idiot. 

Aaron runs to meet the three of them in the cafe. Vic has a brew waiting for him, Robert at her side, pecking her head over something or other, if the three eye rolls he’s practically heard her do in the seventeen seconds he’s been in the cafe are anything to go by. 

He’s slightly older than Vic and Aaron, Robert is, only a mere eighteen months or so, but he’s in year thirteen with them, resitting his A-levels after one-too-many dropouts. 

Holly and Adam bundle through the doors then, Adam waking the whole village as he does so. This has been their routine ever since Holly and Adam moved here, meet at the cafe before taking a painfully slow walk to college. Even before that, Aaron and Vic would walk to school every morning, weather be damned, the winter months would see them bundled up in thick coats and scarves and beanies, throwing rare balls of snow into each other's faces. 

When they arrive at school, the corridors are full of movement, students hurrying to their classes, teachers looking as if they’re carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. Aaron can’t wait to get home. 

There is nothing funnier in this whole world, Aaron thinks, than Monday morning band practice. From his place upon the stage, he can see down onto the stage and all the way up into the seats, the entire stretch of the room before him. Adam is to his left with his guitar, Vic to his right with her bass, and Holly behind on the small kit drum. It’s a disaster, every time. I mean, who was built to sing their lungs out in the first ten hours of a new day anyway? Certainly not Aaron, that’s for sure.

“Alright, everyone!” Miss Blackstock calls from the third row, four seats from the centre. “Alright!”

“Do you know what you’re lacking this morning, Aaron?” Miss Blackstock calls, and Aaron knows the answer to this one, because she tells him every day. 

“A smile, Miss.” 

“Exactly! I need you to blind me.”

Aaron smiles painfully and grips the microphone stand with clammy hands. 

“Mate, unclench,” Adam whispers from the side him, and Aaron only has time to splutter and go bright red before Miss Blackstock counts them back in, and with a one-two-three-four, they’re off.

He’s shaky at first, he knows, fighting through the first couple of lines and fumbling over their cover of Arctic Monkeys’ 505, but by the second verse, he’s got it. Shoulders rocking back and forth, head-bopping, and the longer it goes on the more comfortable everyone seems to feel, bass kicks in with perfect timing and Adam is shaking his hips along beside him. 

By the time Aaron is hitting the last note he’s confident enough to work the tiny stage a little, everybody seems to be vibing with the music, and by the end of it all, Miss Blackstock's eyes look a little wet, fingers poised over her mouth in what Aaron assumes is joy. 

“Great effort, everyone,” Miss Blackstock announces. “Obviously there are some improvements to be made, but I’m not completely underwhelmed. Ten minute break!”

And with that Aaron escapes off the stage as quick as he can, in search of that chocolate bar he’d swiped off the kitchen counter this morning.

All of their bags are dumped in a colossal pile in one of the stuffy dressing rooms backstage. Aaron almost trips over multiple bag straps in his mission to find his own worn bag, flattened beneath Vic and Holly’s. 

“Hey, Dingle.” 

Aaron half chokes on his chocolate, startled as he turns to look over his shoulder. Robert is leant cooly against the door of the dressing room, smiling softly. In the dull, dusty light, he still manages to look effortlessly attractive. He supposes that’s what being captain of the schools football team will do for you. 

“Hey,” Aaron coughs wetly. “Alright?”

“I just wanted to say you sounded pretty good up there,” Robert says. “Always knew you and Vic would make it as big-shot rock stars one day.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, in genuine surprise. He might’ve known Robert his whole life, but he can’t remember a single time he’s received such a compliment from him. “Wouldn’t exactly call us rock-stars. But cheers, mate.”

“Well, heading on the right path,” Robert says, shifting his weight and crossing his ankles. “Vic is always telling me you’ve got a great voice, so it’s nice to finally see she hasn’t been lying to me all these years. Anyway is she around?”

“Uh yeah, yeah she’s out front still.” 

And with that, Robert leaves. Cool as ever. Afterwards, Aaron stands in silence for a moment, before he brings a hand to his mouth. 

Adam chooses that moment to duck his head in, apparently unbothered by his obvious stress.

“Oi Bernice has instructed me to tell you she’s going to make you run laps of the school fields if you’re not in your position within the next thirty seconds,” he says. “Whilst football practice is going on.”

And yeah, that makes Aaron all but sprints from the dressing room.

—

It’s late when he finally arrives home that night, and he tucks himself under his covers almost the second his plate is empty. His mum, Liv and today's visitor, Charity, are still downstairs catching up on the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off before bed, and all he could hear is their muffled laughter and words of approval. He doesn’t know why it makes his chest feel heavy, that his family are together enjoying themselves, whilst he’s tucked away upstairs, he tells himself it’s not guilt, not that familiar feeling of being on the outside of something, but he can’t push away the maudlin feeling gnawing at his insides.

In the dark of his bedroom, all the posters on the walls reflecting that strange moonshine-navy colour, Aaron lets out a soft sigh and tucks his face under the sheets.

Approximately ten seconds later, the shrill of his phone has him peeking his head back out of the covers. 

“What?” Aaron grumbles when he answers with a fumble, eyes still closed.

“Hello to you, Aaron,” Vic says, alert and too loud. “Look at Hotten Academy Confessions right now.”

“For God’s sake, Vic,” Aaron says, annoyed. “I’ve just got in bed.”

“It’s not even nine o’clock, you lazy thing.” 

Aaron sighs, pushing his covers off, because if there’s one thing he’s learnt after eighteen years of friends, it’s that Victoria is insistent and relentless. When he opens his laptop up the brightness partially blinds him, and he blinks rapidly for a moment, vision fuzzy.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” he says, waiting for google to load.

“Just shut up and read the post,” Victoria says, and her voice sounds jumpy and strange, excited almost.

He’s exhausted and feeling oldly numb tonight and he just wants to curl back under his covers and forgot he exists for a while. He’s not entirely sure why he’s indulging Vic, he doesn’t seek out juicy posts to read about people he goes to school with. He hears enough of it from Brenda whilst buying his morning brew each day. He doesn’t—

The website finally loads.

Aaron’s heart stops.

_Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, then the next I’m at rock bottom._

Aaron skims the paragraph, ears full of static, all the blood in his body rushing up to his neck and his cheeks. He can feel his pulse in his temple, in his fingertips; everywhere. 

_For the most part, I’m your typical 19-year-old boy. I have a less than normal family, I spend my weekends watching footie and drinking more than I can handle. But I have one huge secret._

_Sometimes I wonder if I really am all alone in this, or if there are others out there who feel the same, trying to get by being half of the whole they know they could be._

_Nobody knows I’m Bisexual._

**_Red._ **

“Aaron? Have you read it yet?”

His tongue feels too big for his mouth. He swallows and tries to breathe, stomach churning, because right there, at the end of the spiel about feeling stuck and scared and alone despite the normality of everything else around them, this anonymous person has written about something he’s so afraid of. 

“Yeah, I—” Aaron manages to get the words out eventually, frozen, staring at the screen. “I read it.”

“So? Who do you think it is?” Victoria says, giddy. 

“Uh, I don’t know,” Aaron replies. He doesn’t even recognise his own voice right now. Slowly, he sits back in his chair and puts a hand over his face. “I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Aaron—”

He hangs up.

The silence in his bedroom sounds like the moment before a bomb goes off, all the air sucked into a vacuum of terrifying quiet, except this time the explosion doesn’t happen, and Aaron is stuck in a state of staring blankly at his computer, feeling like he’s going out of his mind. Nobody knows I’m Bisexual. _Nobody knows I’m gay._

“Fuck,” he lets out in a rush of breath, slamming the lid closed and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. A slightly manic laugh works its way out of his chest. “Fucking hell.”

Aaron pushes away from his desk and marches back to his bed, wrapping himself up in his blankets. Across the room, the clock ticks in dull rhythm. He lets out a dramatic groan into his pillow and covers his head with the blankets, willing himself to fall asleep and before he does something completely stupid. 

—

No, Aaron decides to wait until morning to do the completely stupid something. 

He puts his Spotify on shuffle to try and calm himself. He’s already been downstairs to flick the kettle on, he needs a coffee, or seven, if he’ll make it through another day of college, head heavy from a fitful sleep. He stares at his laptop for as long as he can before his alarm alerts him he’s got to leave in ten minutes.

Hotten Academy Confessions stares back at him as he eyes the email address in the corner: **redisanonymous@gmail.com**. How original, he thinks to himself. He downs the rest of his coffee, places his shaking fingers slowly over the mouse and clicks the link.

Tapping his thumb again the space bar lightly, Aaron lets out a slow breath and makes a new Gmail account. He spends an age thinking of something enticing yet ambiguous to use, in the end it’s the sounds of Oasis filtering through his phone that inspires him. 

**from:** **champagnesupernova@gmail.com**

 **to:** **redisanonymous@gmail.com**

_Dear Red,_

_You’re not alone. I’m just like you._

_Well, not exactly._

_I’m gay._

_And nobody knows._

Aaron closes the lid of his laptop and stares at his bedroom door. Breathes. One, two, three times and opens the lid again. 

Ten minutes later and he’s opening it back up. Fingers typing on their own accord. 

_I think it takes a lot of bravery to post what you did, even if it was anonymous. Brave enough to inspire me to respond. You’re the first person I’ve told my secret to, maybe that makes me brave too?_

_Hope you’re doing alright._

_A._

He sits send before he can convince himself it’s the worst idea he’s ever had, and immediately pushes away from his desk to get ready mechanically. Change his underwear. Jeans. T-shirt. Hoodie. Ruffles his hair. Water bottle and charger in his backpack. Phone in his pocket. Downstairs, he waves off his Mum’s concerns about skipping breakfast, grabs a chocolate bar, and stumbles out of the door.

—

“So, any guesses?” Are the first words out of Vic’s mouth when he meets her outside the cafe. 

“Nope,” Aaron says. Vic’s expression flickers.

“You look exhausted, Aaron” she frowns. Softly, she presses her palm to his forehead. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Aaron sighs, swatting her hand away. “Just nervous about the band rehearsals tonight. Didn’t sleep much last night.”

He hates lying to her so much it makes him feel a little queasy. 

“What you got to be nervous about, hey?” Vic says sympathetically. “You’re the best singer this side of Yorkshire. I don’t know what you’re worried about, honestly.” 

“Oh, cheers,” Aaron shrugs. 

“Anyway. I’m sure everyone will be too busy talking about that post to give a shit about anything today, so.”

“ _Great_ ,” Aaron tries to remain collected and calm as they walk up to Adam and Holly’s drive, but they’re both weirdly quiet and it’s making him sweat. Each time he glances over his brain has a meltdown of questions, this anxious pressure of she knows, doesn't she? She’s your best friend, she can read you like a book. Will she tell everyone? Will she hate you for it? Will she be mad you didn’t tell her sooner? Will– 

“Mornin’ lads,” Adam shouts, chirpy as ever, interrupting Aaron’s internal panic. 

He all but runs over to them, leaving Holly trailing behind, guitar case in tow. “I see our Aaron’s his usually grumpy self today then,” he says, but there’s laughter in his voice and friendliness in his fingers when he ruffles Aaron’s curls. “Crack a smile, lad.”

He ignores him, turns to greet Holly instead. “Mornin’, Hol.”

“So,” she says, drawing the words out whilst ignoring his greeting in favour of gossiping with Vic. “The anonymous post. Who are we thinking?”

“I mean, it’s not really that big of a deal, is it?” Aaron interrupts casually. Victoria glances at him.

“What are you on about?” Adam laughs. “A closeted gay kid posting on the HCC is the most exciting thing to happen in this town since Sam and Lydia ran naked through the fields.”

“Bisexual, Adam!” Holly corrects him. 

“Doesn’t Robert know, Vic? I mean you’re brother seems to know the whole school.”

“Nah I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned anything. But you know Robert, he doesn’t want to talk about anything unless it involves the footie.” 

“Oh! It could be someone off the football team though, couldn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Victoria ponders. Aaron stays silent. 

—

At school, the halls are alight with giddy whispers. It makes Aaron’s neck prickle, and he smooths down his hoodie unconsciously, runs nervous fingers through his hair, and it’s completely ridiculous because there’s no way anybody could know he’d replied to the post, no one. So he needs to get his shit together.

But then, a vibration comes from his back pocket.

He nearly drops his phone in his haste to shoulder into the toilets, slipping into one of the stalls and locking the door behind him. He stares down at the notification until his screen goes dark, then unlocks his phone carefully, unsure if he’s ready for this. Whatever this is. _God._

**EMAILS: (1) new message from: redisanonymous@gmail.com**

_A,_

_Thanks for the reply. I wasn’t really expecting anybody to respond, but I’m glad you did. Anyway, I think you’re brave too. I’m going to assume you go to school here, given that you must have read the post on HAC, but if you don’t, or if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay too. It’s just nice to have somebody to talk to._

_Maybe I’ll see you around?_

_Red._

Aaron lets out a long breath, fingers curled over his mouth. There’s an unexpected giddiness that's fizzling in his stomach, it’s this alien feeling and it feels a little like fear but also a little like something else, something like a pocket of hope among the rest of the wild thoughts running around his brain. 

_Hey Red,_

_Yep, I do go to school here (unfortunately). Honestly, this all feels a little weird? I’ve always wondered whether I’m the only non-straight kid in this village and knowing that I’m not, well it’s nice. Have u had any more emails? Are u out to anyone? Like u said, if u don’t want to tell me, that’s cool._

_Hope ur having a nice day or whateva._

_A._

—

_A,_

_Glad I haven’t managed to scare you off already._

_I haven’t told anyone, not actively. My Dad knows. Well, no, he doesn't because he never gave me the chance to explain. But he knows I’m attracted to boys to some degree, at least. He caught once, with my tongue down this other lads throat. Things happened and we never spoke about it again. It was best for both of us that way, or at least I thought._

_There are so many times I think that just coming out with it would be the best approach. I nearly told my sister over a game of cards last weekend, but something seems to stop me every time. It all feels like a very overwhelming lie, even though I know I don’t see it that way. It’s not even being bisexual that I’m scared of._

_I can’t think of anything worse than my family being disappointed in me after coming out, which is why I’m so fucking terrified. I’ve spent many years disappointing people, some of the things I’ve done, well maybe they warrant disappointment - but this - being bisexual - it’s just who I am, and I don’t want anyone to be disappointed in me for something I can’t change._

_Sorry if this is heavy. I’ve had a long day, but I hope you understand, to some degree._

_How about you? Out to anyone?_

_Red._

_—_

_Hi Red,_

_No I haven’t told anyone either and I'm not really sure why. Deep down I think my family would be alrite with it? My Mum’s about as chill as they come, she doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m happy, and Paddy (my kinda Dad) isn’t exactly the macho-type. It’s just.. admitting it myself took the best part of 5 years - so letting the whole world know??? That seems way out of reach yet._

_But I don’t see myself coming out for a while, to be honest. I’m just figuring this all out and I need time to do that. Years, maybe. And even then, I don’t know what would happen. Or how it would happen. But I don’t think I’m ready yet._

_Ugh We really pulled the short straw in that department, huh? Imagine if straight kids had to come out to their families? What a shit show that would be. Ha!_

_Sorry if this is a weird question, but how did you know you liked boys AND girls? I had a tough time just figuring out the one. Lol._

_A._

—

_A,_

_For me it was a bunch of little things… lLke this one recurring dream I had about David Beckham when I was 12, but the insane crush I had on Taylor Swift at the same time! Then when I turned 17 I was going on dates with girls and hooking up with guys, yet enjoying both, and maybe that makes me a bit of a dickhead but that’s nothing new._

_Who was your sexual awakening, I mean come on, can’t be more embarrassing than mine, right?_

_Red._

—

Aaron’s phone gets confiscated on a rainy Tuesday morning. This, he thinks, is the point at which things start to go to shit.

“I’ll have that,” Mr. Pollard says as he passes Aaron. “Thank you very much.” 

Halfway through a message to Red, Aaron panics.

“Mr. Pollard, wait–”

“No texting in the halls, young Dingle,” Mr. Pollard tuts, “you know the rules.” Aaron stares at him, then flicks his eyes apprehensively down to the phone. Thankfully it’s locked, now, but there’s still this anxiety that’s begun to fuzz at his fingertips. He wonders if this is what older people talk about when they say that millennials are too attached to technology. Aaron isn’t attached to his phone as such. He’s attached to talking to read. And he needs to finish his message.

“Please, it’s really important,” Aaron begs. “Practically life or death, actually.”

“Humour me,” Mr. Pollard says, eyebrows raised in mock-offence. 

“If I don’t finish that job application, then I won’t get the job,” Aaron says. “And I really need this job, Mr. Pollard.”

“And you can do that from the library computers during a free period, now can't you?” Mr. Pollard explains, pocketing Aaron’s phone. “See you after school, Mr. Dingle.”

And just like that, Mr. Pollard walks away. 

Aaron check his watch. He’s got five minutes before his next lesson so he practically sprints to the library, almost taking out several students and teachers on the way. Thankfully, there’s a computer free near the back of the room when he bursts through the doors. All heads turn to him, his heavy breathing breaking the obvious quiet. The librarian, this old, terrifying woman named Karen, or something old and boring like that,, brings her finger to her lips and sends him daggers from over the top of the desk. 

Aaron keeps his head low as weaves between the tables. He’s restless as he types his user and password in, fingers shaking and leg bouncing, he brings up his private emails straight away, getting the password wrong twice before he finally manages to get his fingers and his brain to work together. Red’s recent email sits at the top, and he opens it in a heartbeat. The smile that threatens to spill over his features can’t be helped. 

His fingers start working a reply almost instantly. 

_Red,_

_For me it was Damon Albarn. And really, it still is! I’m a big fan of music, particularly the indie stuff. Although judging by your Taylor Swift obsession - you probably wouldn’t even know who Damon Albarn was if he took over Mr. Pollard’s role as headteacher. Lol._

A. 

—

_A,_

_Hey! I’m offended on behalf of Taylor and every Swifite out there. But you’re not wrong. I don’t know much about ‘cool’ music. Maybe you could teach me something? Right, name me your all-time favourite songs and I’ll listen to them on my run tonight._

_Red._

—

Aaron pauses, biting his lip. A playlist might be too much. When he made Vic one for her birthday last year, she nearly cried. The CD is still sitting pride of place in her music collection, played to death and all scratched up.

“Watching porn on the school laptops? Aaron Dingle you filthy—”

Aaron jumps and fumbles to minimize the window, spinning in his chair to face Adam. 

“Shut up ya twat,” Aaron says haughtily. “I was submitting an assignment, actually. Like the top student I am.”

“Oi,” Adam flicks his ear. “You saying I’m not a good student?”

“Yep. That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying” Aaron says, laughing.

Adam pokes at his cheeks until Aaron is swatting him away, hands flying everywhere. “Anyway, you’re the one who’s late for class.”

“So are you,” Aaron points out. “We’ve both got Business like... right now.”

Adam looks like he’s about to retort. His face falls. “Shit.”

They gather up their belongings and make a beeline for the exit, still play fighting and swiping at each other, laughing madly as they tumble down the corridors. Val shouts after them and pokes her head out the door to scold them. _Again._

In the end, they’re only seven minutes late for class. Aaron would call that an achievement. 

_—_

It’s the next day when things really, really go to shit. 

“What do you want, Ross?” Aaron says, voice annoyed, as it always is when talking to the middle Barton. Ross had been following him around all day, lurking at every corner, and Aaron knew it was probably just some mind game, as it always is with Ross. But his patience was wearing thin now. 

Ross takes in a slow breath and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, I just wanted your advice on something.”

“What?” Aaron replies, impatient. 

“Well, I was just wondering if you could me set up a Ginder profile?” Ross starts and Aaron’s entire body prickles with pins and needles. 

“Stop being a twat, Ross.”

“See I thought you’d know all about that, Ginder that is. What with you being _gay_ n’all.”

And that, that’s the exact point Aaron’s world turns on its axis. 

“I know that you’re talking to that Red dude,” Ross says. His voice is calm and collected and so different to the roar that’s surging up in Aaron’s ears. “I know you’re gay, Aaron.”

“Shut up,” Aaron says, but it fumbles weakly out of his mouth. “Just shut up.”

And Ross, he just smirks, _the fucking idiot._

“How did you–. How. Who else knows?”

“Nobody,” Ross says. “ _For now._ I logged out of your account for you. So really, you owe me a thank you.”

It hits Aaron like a bucket of ice water, then. He left himself logged in on the computer earlier today. He’s fucked it all up.

“Ross, listen,” Aaron starts, hating how desperate he sounds. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. “You can’t tell anyone, please. You can’t tell a single person.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Ross says. “Relax.” 

“ _Relax?_ ” Aaron grits out. “I can’t fucking—. God, you should have—. You should have closed it all down. You shouldn’t have looked. That was _private._ ”

“Well, you shouldn’t have left it there for anyone to read, then,” Ross says, hand over his heart.

Aaron looks away and clenches his jaw. There’s a hot, shaky panic curling in his stomach, something vulnerable and afraid. He’s terrified, not just for himself. He doesn’t want to let Red down, not now. They’re finally starting to properly talk.

“I promise I won’t show anyone, okay?”

“Wait, wait,” Aaron breathes, palms up. “Show? You took fucking screenshots?”

“Well yeah, yeah I did.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?”

“Just listen,” Ross rushes. “I just need you to help me–”

“Oh so now you’re blackmailing me, yeah? ” Aaron shouts, and he laughs with how absurd it is, laughs to cover the swell of anxiety that’s stuck in his throat. “Ross, mate. I can help you without that, whatever it is. You don’t need to–”

“Fake ID. That’s it,” Ross says. “By Friday please, _lover-boy._ ”

“Are you mad?” Aaron says sourly. “How the hell do you expect me to get you one of those?”

“Uh, Cain’s your uncle in’t he? You Dingles are as dodgy as they come,” Ross says, shrugging as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “Fine, fine. You can buy me the booze instead. And pay. Cheers.”

“ _Unbelievable_.” Aaron sighs. 

“Look,” Ross ducks his head. “Either you get me all the booze I need for Friday night, or these halls will be filled with gossip of the sparkly-new gay kid come morning.”

“Whatever,” Aaron says. “Delete the screenshots, then. Forget whatever you saw. I’ll get your booze just - just delete everything.”

“Perfect. I always did like you, Aaron,” Ross says, sarcasm laced in his voice. “Not like that thought, I’m as straight as a ruler, me.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Aaron says. “Show me the screenshots,” Ross nods and pulls out his phone, coming closer. 

They’re all there. Every one, since Aaron and Red started talking. It feels invasive, makes him sick to his stomach.

“Get rid of them." 

“Whatever you say, Sunshine,” Ross says. 

Aaron just nods and averts his eyes. They’re growing misty and hot. God, Ross knows.

_Ross Fucking Barton._

“Do you know who it is?” Ross asks. “Red?”

“If I did, you’d be the last person to know.” Aaron says. He doesn’t feel present. “I’ve—I’ve got to go home.”

“Oi” Ross shouts as Aaron turns to leave. “Just look for the one in the Taylor Swift top, hey?”

—

He doesn’t tell Red about the incident with Ross. He thought about it, wanted to scream and shout about how much of a fucking prick Ross is. But then he thought about scaring Red away, about Red never talking to him again. And that, well... it’s not even worth thinking about. 

Aaron, he was young, sure, but he wasn’t naive. You didn’t — you didn’t grow up with a family like his and hold on to any sort of naivety. He was sure a therapist would have something to say about Aaron never really having a proper childhood; his childhood memories of sitting by his bedroom door, listening to his parents fight, his father drinking too much and taking it out on his Mum again, until eventually she’d left, and the only person left for Gordon to turn to was Aaron. Aaron, eight years old unsure as to how to hide from all your friends that he was petrified of going home each night. 

The point was, Aaron wasn’t a naive person. He knew how harsh a place the world was, because he’d muddled through all that harshness on his own for years, until his Mum came back and his father wouldn’t see anything but the inside of a prison for years to come. Aaron, he knew the world wasn’t a nice, or forgiving place, he knew pain and hurt was almost guaranteed, there was no escaping it.

Aaron knew all that, he did.

But Red, Red was messing with his head.

—

He buys Ross the booze, does it on his walk home from school, just to get it over with really. He doesn't bother handing it to Ross personally, just leaves it on his doorstep and fires him off a text. _Twat._

He hurries home then, remembering that he’s yet to reply to Red’s last email. 

  
  
—

_Red,_

_Obviously, some of the things I’ve told u about myself are things I’ve never told anyone before, not even me Mum. I think there’s just something about u that makes me want to open up, which is kinda terrifying for me. A good terrifying though, I think. Music is one of the things I hold closest to my heart, however_ **_gay_ ** _that might sound. So sharing me favourite songs with people ain’t something I do often. But I want to share everything with u._

_So I made u a little playlist and I’m trusting u to listen to each song all the way through, alrite? No cheating. NO skipping. I’ll be testing u tmrw._

  1. Talk Tonight - Oasis
  2. Lost - Dermot Kennedy
  3. Brave for You - The xx
  4. Boys and Girls - Blur 
  5. How Good It Was - The Courteeners
  6. Temporary Love, Pt. 2 - Easy Life
  7. Don’t Delete the Kisses - Wolf Alice
  8. Slide - Jake Bugg
  9. Ten Storey Love Song - The Stone Roses
  10. I Found - Amber Run



_AND a bonus one, my favourite song in the world: Toothpaste Kisses - The Maccabees._

_GO! GO! GO!_

_Love, A._

He’s grinning like an idiot when he hits send, warmth in his cheeks and his chest. For the past couple of weeks, it feels like a hummingbird has made a nest in his chest, and each time he sends an email it flutters its wings against his ribs. He clicks open spotify and puts all the songs in his own private playlist. And maybe, just maybe he falls asleep listening to the soothing tones of The Maccabees and thinking of Red.

—

_A,_

_Wow. I can see why Toothpaste Kisses is your favourite song. It’s… gorgeous? I don’t think I’ve ever described a song as gorgeous before, but it is! I’ll always think of you when I hear it now; soft and lovely._

_I hope you’re having a nice day, and this cold weather isn’t running in your path. I’ve only gone and caught a bloody cold - already. I hope all those people who said they couldn’t wait for winter are happy now - pfff!_

_Anyway, I’m off to a study class (the joys) - catch up with you later._

_Take care of yourself. <3 _

_Red._

—

_Red,_

_I’m good thank u. No cold for me yet, but it’s only a matter of time, innit? I hope ur feeling better, and if not, get a Lemsip down you (or a hot chocolate, because those things are minging!)_

_I’m so glad the week is so nearly over, u have no idea! I’m going to treat myself with a solo movie and pizza night tonight - I’m just having trouble deciding on only one pizza: Hawaiian or Texas BBQ??? Help!_

_Happy Friday - have a nice day!_

_A_

—

_Dear A,_

_I can’t believe I’ve been talking to you this entire time without knowing you’re one of those people who enjoys pineapple on pizza. I feel betrayed. Lied to. Disappointed. What other secrets have you been keeping from me? You’re tearing this family apart._

_Anyway - Texas BBQ - deffo!_

_What film are you watching? Maybe I could watch it too? And that way it’ll feel like we're watching together, you know?_

_Let me know what you think._

_Red._

_—_

Aaron bites his bottom lip to stop himself smiling like an idiot, ducking inside the sports hall. It’s quiet and mostly empty, some of the football team still lingering, shuffling around in the stock cupboard. He doesn't often use the school gym, much preferring to go into Hotten, there’s little to no chance of having an awkward encounter with any teachers there. But he hasn’t got the time for that tonight, not if he wants to spend the evening emailing Red and creating a bunch of playlists like some lovesick teenager. 

He’s typing out an affronted reply, still smiling ridiculously as he heads into the changing rooms to dump his stuff. When he turns the corner and is faced with the dark, dingy hallway, he pauses.

There’s music coming from one of the side rooms, light spilling out through a crack in the door onto the dusty carpet. Clicking off his phone, Aaron approaches slowly. 

_Cradle me, I’ll cradle you, I’ll win your heart with a woop-a-woo._

It hits Aaron slowly, then all at once, this sudden rush of blood to his face that makes him pause outside the parted door, a hand over his chest. It’s The Maccabees. The same song he put on his playlist for Red only a matter of days ago. Aaron stands dumbfounded in the hall like a creep for what feels like forever, but he can’t bring himself to look inside. It’s probably a coincidence, it’s probably nothing, it’s not exactly the most obscure song, is it? But it also could be something and it hits Aaron then that this could be it.

He could be facing Red for the first time.

There’s this moment of hesitation, when Aaron grips the doorknob. After all this time, all the wanting and wishing, he isn’t actually sure if he’s ready.

He pushes the door open slowly anyway, peeking inside.

Robert is standing in the middle of the room, striding forward before swinging his foot and sending the ball over the net, sweat coating his forehead. He moves to collect the ball, bobbing his hips side to side almost unconsciously in time with the music as he goes. Aaron stands in complete silence. There are waves of static filling his ears, all the breath whooshing out of his chest in a huge rush of air. Robert hums along softly; _Cradle me, I’ll cradle you, we'll do the things that lovers do._ The lights on the mirror catch on his hair and his voice is a low rumble under the music that’s ebbing softly and Aaron genuinely feels one breath away from collapsing.

_Is it you?_

_Surely it’s not you._

It’s as Robert turns to pick the football up, momentarily distracted from his surroundings, that he looks in the mirror and spots Aaron in the shadows of the hall, his head poking in. He whirls around with a hand on his chest.

“Jesus, Dingle,” he says, almost dropping the ball again. Aaron almost runs, embarrassment flooding his entire body. He’s made a fatal error. “How long have you been standing there, you creep?”

There’s laughter in Robert’s voice, though, he ball held against his chest. His chest is rising and falling heavily and the soft lines of his shoulders and back shouldn’t be as distracting as they are. 

“Not long,” Aaron finally says, once his brain remembers how to communicate with his mouth. “Just, uh, heading to the gym.”

Robert nods and throws the ball down with a dull thunk. 

“Cool. Are you just going to stand there, or…?” Robert raises an eyebrow. 

Awkwardly, Aaron shuffles in and shuts the door behind him. “I love this song,” he says. He feels brave enough to admit it. Robert just smiles and hops up onto one of the countertops, feet tapping together. 

“Ah yeah, Vic mentioned, she’s trying to get me to broaden my horizon or something,” Robert shrugs, like it’s nothing, like Aaron doesn’t feel like the biggest idiot in the whole of Yorkshire. “Turns out all those years of hating new music was just me being a complete snob.”

Aaron bites down on a smile and finally comes further into the room, dumping his soaked bag. He’s still feeling brave when he pulls out the chair in front of Robert, sitting backwards on it and leaning his elbows against the top. The song flicks over, and all that bravery kind of melts out of Aaron in a slow puddle. It’s like the music is mocking him, nudging his ribs with hilarious irony. 

“How does it feel to know you were wrong all along?”

“I’m very humble now,” Robert says in mock seriousness, hand over his heart. “I’m just a much better person. How did I ever live my life before I had The 1975 and Arctic Monkeys?” 

At that, Aaron lets out an embarrassingly loud clap of laughter, resting his forehead against the back of the chair.

“Well that’s a start, I suppose,” he argues, still giggling through his words. “Next you’ll be going to their shows and wearing their tops.” 

“Oh I’m not sure, I’ve got to draw a line somewhere,” Robert says, and it isn’t even that funny, is it, but Aaron still laughs and feels himself going pink, ducking his head. 

“What are you doing here so early, anyway?” Robert asks, resting his elbows on his knees, then, chin in his palms, and like this they’re angled together, faces tilted in opposite directions. In all the years he’s known Robert Sugden he doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close. They’ve never had reason to be. They don’t now, really.

“Wanted to hit the gym before all the year 12’s flood it,” Aaron says, his voice gone soft and strange. He clears his throat. “What about you?”

“I ditched English,” Robert shrugs, mischief in his eyes. “Just wanted to get some practice in, I’ve been slacking in these winter months.”

“Oh, sorry,” Aaron says. “Did I interrupt you?” 

“Not really,” Robert shrugs, changing the tilt of his head. Aaron does the same, resting his own chin on his palm. “Actually, maybe you could help me out.”

_Shit._

“Me? Helping you? With football? You sure about that mate?” 

“Oh come on, five minutes? Please?”

“Fine” Aaron says, a sudden rush of nerves making his voice go a little wobbly. “I’ll try my best.”

“I ain’t no Harry Kane, Dingle.” Robert nudges Aaron’s shin with his foot. “I just need you to stand in goal.”

It feels a little bit like the universe is laughing at him, peering through the storm clouds and hatching plans for Aaron’s demise piece by piece. This isn’t how he expected his morning to go at all. Robert is making him inexplicably nervous like never before, and Aaron’s heart is still humming frantically from the aftershocks of hearing Toothpaste Kisses from the hallway. He tells himself it is just coincidence. He can’t tangle up Red with anyone anymore.

“Right, just stand there and try to look a little threatening,” Robert instructs, handing Aaron a pair of goalie gloves. 

Aaron rolls his eyes and looks down at the floor. His cheeks warm a little as he jiggles about, stretching his arms a little. 

Robert takes a shot, which, to Aaron’s surprise he saves.

It’s worth a mini-celebration. 

Robert plays along and rolls his eyes, huffing.

“Right, one more shot,” Robert says. 

And yeah, there’s no chance of Aaron saving that one.

“Woah, nice one.” 

“Well,” Robert says. “I always do aim to impress.” And over that their eyes meet again, gazes held steadily, and people are beginning to pile into the college, but Robert doesn’t make any move to pack away. 

“Think that first save was a fluke, really.”

“You’re decent, Dingle,” Robert says. He quirks a brow. “Maybe you should think about joining the team. We’re in desperate need of a replacement goalie.”

Aaron’s brain goes straight to white noise, unable to come up with a witty reply. 

“Shut up,” Aaron retorts softly, drawing his eyes up. After a beat, Aaron questions: “Enough?”

“Yeah,” Robert says. “Yeah. I think I’ve got it now.”

“Cool,” Aaron says, taking in a slow breath and moving himself away, strapping his gloves off.

The bell ringing startles them both, like a camera shutter, cutting a scene on a film, and just like that the warm bubble between them seems to burst. Robert stands back and brushes himself off. 

“S’pose we should head out, get to class or whatever,” Robert says, gaze averted.

“Or whatever,” Aaron jokes, ducking his own eyes away. 

When they step out into the hallway, they can hear the buzz of movement outside, students trickling in and out of rooms, and it almost seems louder than it usually does, like when they were in that room together everything outside became muffled and far away. He glances at Robert. 

Robert is already looking at him. 

“Cheers for the help, mate,” Robert says. “Oh, and I’ll keep you updated on my musical awakening.”

Aaron laughs. “Yeah, you best do. See you later,” he says before turning and hurrying down the hall, forgoing the gym, all plans of spending the getting fit slipping his mind. 

Well, at least he’s done one productive thing today. Kicked Robert bloody Sugden off his list. 

Thank God for the weekend. 

—

_Dear Red,_

_I think I’m gonna come out to my friends (or at least one of them) when we go back to college on Monday. I’m so tired of tucking myself and my feelings away, and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep everything under a lid. I don’t want to hold back from letting myself feel. I don’t want to be half of a whole, anymore._

_I hope you had a great weekend. I haven’t stopped thinking about our little ‘movie night’ at all. We should deffo do it again!_

_A._

_—_

_Hey A,_

_I believe in you._

_You can do it._

_My weekend was alright thanks, but just like yours, most of it was spent with Friday night on a loop in my mind._

_Love, Red._

—

Monday morning comes around all too quickly and suddenly Aaron can’t think of anything he’d rather do less that come out to his friends.

_Brilliant._

They’re sat out on the school field, soaking up the last mild day of October. And it seems that even with Vic on the warpath for a top-tier university, and pulling down more lessons than the three of them put together, she still finds time for a little mischief every now and again. It’s one of Aaron’s favourite things about her, along with her sardonic wit and caring heart.

“We’ve all got a free fourth period, right? Who fancies skiving the rest of the day off?” Vic asks.

Beside him, Holly takes out a notebook, and worries the end of her pen with her teeth. She flips it open and starts jotting notes down, presumably for homework that she hadn’t completed the night before.

“I — uh, I can’t today,” Aaron starts, failing to come up with any plausible excuse. “Said I’d help me Mum with something. Sorry.”

“Why are you acting so strange?” Vic replies, squinting at him from over the top of her book, pen poised between her newly painted nails. 

“I’m not,” Aaron says calmly, sifting through his food to pick out the chocolate bar. 

“You’re just-” Vic starts, presses her lips into a thin line and shrugs, looking away. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. We just haven’t hung out in a while, y’know? Like the way we usually do.”

“We have. We went to the cinema last weekend?”

“Yeah, ad we used to spend every day together Aaron,” she huffs. “I just miss ya, that’s all.” 

“Me too, Vic,” Aaron says, shovelling the chocolate into his mouth.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” She says.

“Of course,” Aaron replies through his mouthful, resolutely staring down at the floor. “I’ll cancel, tell Mum I’m busy tonight. She’ll understand.” 

And so he fires off a text, not to his Mum, but to Ross, of course. 

**[02:13pm]** **_Sorry can’t do u to that favour tonite. Emergency._ **

He’s risking everything here, he knows that. But Vic is right, they haven’t spent much time together recently - between falling in love and being blackmailed, it’s been a busy few weeks. But by saying no to Ross, he’s risking him telling the entire school about the emails. About Red. About Aaron being gay. Every possible scenario ends with things going up in flames, and Aaron is panicking now. 

It shouldn’t be this hard.

_He doesn’t understand why it has to be this hard._

—

He’s jotting notes, possible lyrics for the band, when Liv pads into his bedroom that night. 

Aaron doesn’t notice her presence at first, humming along to the radio and caught up in the heavy beat of The Red Hot Chilli Peppers. It’s just gone six, his Mum still at work, and their pizza in the oven is just beginning to warm the whole house. He hasn’t heard back from Ross yet, or Red, so his phone has been left lifeless at his side for a while, but it vibrates lively beside him as he spots Liv. It’s only Vic on the phone, he cancels the call and makes a mental note to phone her back once Liv has gone. 

“Aaron,” she says, and Aaron looks at her over his shoulder with a smile and a quirk of his brow, expecting some kind of banter, a jab at him for attempting to cook, but the look on her face makes him pause completely, smile sliding slowly from his mouth. Her eyes are damp, phone clutched desperately in her hand, and Aaron just knows, he knows the second their eyes lock, somewhere deep down in the pit of his stomach. 

He’s shoving past her before she can say another word, tumbling frantically up the stairs to his bedroom with his heart in his throat, this steady panic of _no-no-no_ thumping against his temples as he types in his laptop password and smashes down the enter button, anxiously waiting for the page to load. Liv lingers in the doorway of his bedroom, an arm slung loosely over her stomach.

Aaron feels his eyes are already wet when Hotten High Anonymous finally flickers to life in front of him. These hot, salty tears that clump his lashes together and make it hard for him to read the post, but it’s there, pictures he thought were gone in clear colour, the back and forth of Dear Red and Love A, and in the corner of the screenshot, the name Aaron Dingle logged into the school server, right there for everybody to see. 

He can’t get his fingers to work, can barely read the fucking post as it is, skimming over it with a hand clasped hard over his mouth to stop the way he wants to sob, and Liv is still standing there watching him at a complete loss, and she looks hurt, she looks exactly the way Aaron didn’t want her to look, feared she’d look. 

_Disappointed._

_Upset._

_Betrayed._

On his bedside table, his phone is buzzing wildly with messages.

“Aaron—,” Liv says desperately, taking a step forward into the room.

“Don’t—,” he chokes back. He shakes his head and finally lets the sobs go, slamming the lid of his laptop shut so harshly the sound of it makes him flinch, and he hangs his head, presses his face between his knees and lets out a frustrated shout, hands in his hair. It’s not fair, because this is supposed to be his thing. Coming out was for him, not for anyone else to decide, and he feels like it’s been ripped right out of his chest and splattered up along the walls for everybody to see.

His phone is still buzzing, and he crosses the room before he can think about it, snatches it up and pushes harshly past Liv so he can throw it down the stairs in a burst of anger so sharp it makes his head spin.

“Aaron!” Liv grabs his arm, mouth parted as she watches him, watches the flurry of tears slicking up his cheeks. He feels so embarrassed, ashamed, and he knows this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, how its supposed to feel. He’s supposed to feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted, like he can breathe. Right now, he’s barely hanging on. 

He tries to wrench himself out of her grasp, tries to close the door of his room, but she’s persistent, throwing her weight against it to slip back inside and wrap him up in a hug despite his struggling, and eventually he collapses into her, hides his hot face into her neck and squeezes her into a hug because he just needs something to latch onto, scared he won’t be able to hold himself up much longer.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?” Liv whispers, her own voice wet and shaky, fingers in his hair.

_Because I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready._

“Liv,” he cries, helpless, and she hushes him softly, gently guides them over to the bed and lets him curl up around her, the same way they used to do when they were kids and he’d pad into her room when she had nightmares, those first few months after Gordon had gone. 

That embarrassment ebbs off him in waves now, his entire body boiling with heat, face damp with snot and tears and spit, and he hates that it feels like the end of the world. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. There’s just so much, so much panic and impending anxiety. And, God. Red. Red will know, now. What if he wants nothing to do with Aaron now? What if he drifts away and Aaron is left just with this, with something that he can’t even hold close to his chest anymore, their conversations up on the internet for anyone to read. 

And then there’s Vic. Adam. Holly. Aaron bites down on another sob, fingers curling up in the sheets. God his Mum, she’ll find out about everything soon enough, gossip travels faster than lightning in this damn village, and there’s Cain. Uncle Zak, the whole clan. 

He’s going to be so fucking alone, expecting the worst, because he’s lied to everybody for so long. 

It’s dark, when the exhaustion hits him full force, and he just goes limp, empty-headed and still crying, just a soft stream of silent tears. His pillow is damp and the front of Liv’s pyjama shirt is dark from him hiding his face against her chest, and he just wants to disappear.

“I love you so much Aaron,” Liv whispers to him, brushing sweaty curls back from his face. “So much. Nothing will ever change that. You’re my big brother.”

His face crumples, and he just nods. It’s all he can do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers eventually, throat wrecked from crying. “I should have told you, probably.”

“No,” Liv says gently. “No, Aaron. You didn’t have to say anything. You don’t need to be sorry, okay?”

“I lied.”

“You didn’t lie, you just—,” Liv says, and Aaron’s eyes brim with hot tears again when she smiles gently down at him. “Well, avoided telling the truth. I get it, you know? There’s no shame in waiting, in keeping a part of yourself hidden until you’re ready for the world to see.”

“What if everybody hates me?” he whispers meekly, sniffling and trying to catch the next wave of tears before they drip down his chin, his neck tacky from it. “What if they want nothing to do with me anymore? Vic? My mates? The family?”

“Then that’s their problem, not yours, alright?” Liv says fiercely. “Then you let them go and you surround yourself with people who love you for you. And there are so many people who love you.”

There’s a flash of bright light, a flicker that runs over the walls, and Aaron sinks further down into the sheets when he hears the car door shut outside, the key in the lock.

“Please don’t say anything,” he begs. “I’ll tell her when I’m ready to tell her.”

“Okay, okay,” Liv agrees, slowly sliding out from under the covers. It’s cold without her, and he shifts into the warmth she’s left behind. “I’ll tell her you’re feeling poorly.”

“Thank you,” Aaron whispers, rubbing his knuckles against his swollen eyes. He’s so fucking tired. It feels like all the marrow has been sucked from his bones and left him paper-thin and frail, joints achy. 

“Love you, bro,” Liv smudges a kiss to his forehead, ruffles his hair, and quietly slips out of the room.

In the shadowed darkness, finally alone, Aaron pulls the sheets up over his head and lets a fresh wave of tears go, hands curled into loose fists against his chest.

—

He feigns sickness the next morning when Chas comes in to check on him. It’s not a complete lie, he does feel sick to his stomach, besides, he’s sure he looks the part, anyway. His head feels like it’s full of lead, nose blocked up, eyes bleary and sore from the hours of crying. He hadn’t really slept last night, mostly just tossed and turned and willed his mind to shut up for a single second. 

It’s well into the afternoon by the time he manages to drag himself out of bed, and there’s chilly sunlight pouring in through his curtains. Something catches his reflection, and in turns catches his eye. _His phone._ Sometime during the night, after he crashed, Liv must have snuck in and put it on his desk. The glass is all smashed up through the middle of the screen, but it still works, _unfortunately_. Almost as soon as it flashes to life, it starts to buzz with text after text after text, and he hurries to turn off his notifications. He scrolls through them, barley taking the words in, feeling sick at the number of random people who want a slice of this time again, people who haven’t bothered with him for years. Nosy twats, Aaron thinks. 

There’s a couple of messages that stand out though. 

The first comes from Adam. 

**_[18:09] I know this isn’t how you wanted to do things mate, but I just want you to know I’m dead proud of you anyway. It may seem like the end of the world right now but I promise it ain’t. I’m here if you need me. Whenever._ **

**_Love you. X (but not in a gay way! lol!)_ **

And then there’s Holly’s, the two sent at practically the exact same time. 

**_[18:10] I've always wanted a Gay Best Friend and you’re telling me I’ve had one this whole damn time? Aaron Dingle you mysterious thing. Also I CANNOT believe you told Adam before anyone else! Adam?? God I really do worry about you sometimes! Annnnnyway… what I came here to say is: I love you. SO much. We all do. Please call one of us back, we’re worried about you. <33 x _ **

And then he spots Vic’s name. Well, he doesn’t so much spot it as get blinded by a string of messages. 16 in total. 

**[18:12]** **_Aaron???_ **

**[18:15]** **_Pick your bloody phone up will you?_ **

**[18:21]** **_Aaron have seen the post? Was it you?_ **

**[18:30]** **_???????_ **

**[18:42]** **_THIS IS IMPORTANT FFS_ **

**[19:00]** **_I’ve just spoken to Adam. He said it’s true? Your gay?_ **

**[19:36]** **_Why wouldn’t you tell me something so massive? And don’t say it’s because you didn’t want to tell anyone, because you told Adam. And some bloody stranger online. But you couldn’t tell me!!! Your best mate. Why?_ **

**[20:13]** **_Fine. Ignore me. Pretend it’s not happening just like you do with everything._ **

**[21:02]** **_You’re a coward, Aaron._ **

**[21:56]** **_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. None of it. I love you so much, Aaron. More than anyone in this whole world and I hope you know that. You’re so strong, and brave, and brilliant, and courageous. You can get through this, just like you’ve got through everything else <333_ **

**[22:28]** **_Turns out it was Ross who posted it. Seems he had a bunch of screenshots somehow and decided to post them. I’m so sorry, Aaron. Me, Adz and Hol are already plotting his murder! X_ **

**[22:30]** **_Phone me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting. Love you to the moon and back. Xxx_ **

**[22:31]** **_(and back again)_ **

**[23:48]** **_But if you don’t reply soon I might have to take drastic measures x_ **

And then there’s the last text, just a string of rainbow Emojis. And that’s the first thing to make Aaron smile all day. 

—

“You feeling any better, love?” His Mum asks as he makes his way into the living room. She finally gets a good look at his face and lowers her magazine. “Are you alright, you look like you’ve been crying?”

Aaron swallows against the lump that’s formed in his throat, weighty and sore. 

“Do you want me to call Liam?” Chas continues. “It’s still early, he should be able to squeeze in a—”

“Mum,” Aaron cuts her off softly, his voice was hoarse, the aftermath of his hysterical tears the previous evening. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “It’s not that—I’m not—not ill.” 

“What is it then, love?” Chas eyebrows almost knit together, but she doesn’t say anything else, and Aaron averts his gaze to the floor. She’s leaving him room to breathe, but he almost wishes she would force him to spit it out, now. He’s shaky and pent up with nervous energy, these prickling waves of heat rolling down his cheeks and neck. There’s just too much going on his brain, all these different feelings and thoughts and things he wants to say, and he wants to let them all go. He can’t hold them all in any longer.

“I’m gay.”

It’s not until after the words had slipped out that he realised it’s the first time he’s said it aloud. 

And the world didn’t end. _A miracle._

Chas blinks slowly at him, confusion rolling over her features, but it only takes her a second to open up her arms, as if she just knows that it’s what he needs, and then Aaron is collapsing towards her, toppling onto the soft, familiar sofa and hiding his face away in his Mum’s neck. She kisses his forehead fiercely, over and over when he starts to cry, quiet and exhausted because he’s already cried all the heavy tears today.

“Ssh, darling,” Chas whisper against his temple. “Hey, I love you. I love you so much.”

“‘M sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“It’s alright,” Chas says. “That doesn’t matter. You’re telling me now, now you’re ready. I’m so proud of you, Aaron.”

“I thought I was ready for people to know, but now I’m not so sure,” he sniffs. “I never wanted it to happen like this. I don’t want my friends to hate me.”

“If they hate you, then they aren’t your friends,” she says. “I’m sure you feel alone right now, and I know it feels like the sky is falling, but believe me when I say that it’ll pass. You’ll get through it, like you get through everything. You’re the strongest kid I know, Aaron.”

Aaron just clutches onto her, the same way he did when he was little, before she left, small enough to hang off her legs, when she came back, old enough to appreciate their past, their struggles and their bond. She has her hands carding through his hair, peppering constant kisses to his crown, and Aaron feels something lift, then, like a tiny slither of air has finally managed to pass through the constantly constricted pressure against his lungs. 

“You’re not angry?” Aaron voices his fears.

“Angry? No, not at all, love. Why on earth would I be angry?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t want this. You know, I never wanted to be gay,” Aaron says, and now he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. “I tried so hard to change that part of me, Mum. I just wanted to be a normal kid.”

“Hey, you’re a Dingle, we don’t do normal,” Chas jokes lightly. “You are still you, Aaron. You are still the same brilliant son who is a grumpy, pain in the arse half of the time. Who’s kept me going through everything the world has thrown at us. And you’re the same brother who Liv worships. And you always will be.” 

“You’ve always been so loving, Aaron. Even when the world was so cruel, and it pushed you to your limits, I always remember wondering how such a tested heart could hold so much love. Maybe that was it, you holding all that love in, giving so much of it, but holding on to the most important parts.”

Aaron nods, and then he’s crying again, his palms pressed lightly against his eyes to try and make it stop. He lets out an absurd puff of laughter at himself, wet and a little choked, and shakes his head, blinking up at the ceiling.

“You can let go of it now,” Chas says, and her chest shakes a little, her voice gone thin. “I never want you to feel like you have to hold anything in.”

Aaron just nods. He can’t find the words.

“You get to exhale now, Aaron.”

“Thank you, Mum,” he whispers.

And with one last kiss to his head, she’s gone.

The silence seems overbearing without another presence in the room. Aaron knocks his feet together lightly and stares down at the ground, jaw clenching and unclenching. The message to Red sits unsent like a hot coal in his pocket, burning through the fabric of his jeans into his skin. He doesn’t even want to look at it, afraid of what he wrote in his mild panic. Maybe he’ll just delete the app altogether. 

He’s interrupted from his mind-numbed staring by another knock on the door, and it opens before he can react. 

Victoria slips into the room gingerly, bottom lip bitten into her mouth. Aaron looks at her in slight disbelief, shoulders slumped, his chest a moment away from caving in. The exhaustion hits him like a fucking truck, and the look in Vic’s eyes hurts him somewhere deep in his chest, right at his core.

“Hey,” she says, barely a sound. “Your Mum said it was okay to come in.”

Aaron just stares up at her. In the low light, he can see the circles under Vic’s eyes, the sympathetic look clinging to them. The sorrow, the betrayal, the wariness. He hates it. 

“I’m sorry,” Aaron whispers, unsure as to what he’s actually apologising for. Lying? Not telling her first? Being gay? His whole entire life?

“No, Aaron,” she says. “Don’t do that, okay? Don’t apologise, you have nothing to apologise for. _Nothing._ ”

Aaron nods. He’s not so sure he believes her, though.

“So it’s true? You’re gay?”

Another nod.

 _Vic, I’m gay._ He’s practised the words in his head over and over, but they still won’t spill. He just can’t seem to let them go, not even when she smiles softly at him from across the room. 

“How long have you known?” She questions.

“Forever, I suppose,” Aaron answers honestly. “Consciously, only a couple of years, but I just, like—I thought it would disappear, y’know? I thought the feelings would lesson, or—or maybe I could just force myself to like girls, but it don’t work like that, I know that now.”

"No, it doesn't," she agrees. "But you have nothing to be ashamed of Aaron. Not one single thing. You're still you and I love you all the same."

“I know. I think. But even now, I’m not sure if I’ve completely accepted it,” Aaron admits. “It’s not like I planned to come out now, _like this,_ but there’s no going back now and I might as well start embracing that part of me, you know? Or, at least try to. Because I am. _I'm gay_.”

Well, _shit._

“I can’t imagine any of this is going to be easy, Aaron,” Vic says. “But you’ll have me, me and Adam and Holly, your Mum and Liv, all of us by your side every step of the way.”

“At least if feels like there's a light at the end of the tunnel no, I suppose?”Aaron ponders, the furrow in his brow growing at the mere thought. 

“And does that light come in the shade of Red, huh?” Vic questions, and suddenly Aaron’s stomach sinks. 

_He misses Red._

“I don’t know, Vic,” he admits. “I hope so, but I really don’t know.”

“Either way, you accepting yourself is the only thing that matters,” Vic quips. “Mum used to tell us, Me, Andy and Robert, that a lot. And she was one very wise woman.”

“That she was.”

Victoria reaches across the few inches of space between them, reassuring fingers wrapping tightly around Aaron’s wrist. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, sincere. “You have no idea.”

“Thank you, Vic,” Aaron says, eyes wet. “I just wish I knew what to do now.”

“Well, I think,” she says, glint in her eyes that tell-tale sign of a plan forming in her mind. “We should start by devising a heartfelt email to Red, what do you say?”

“Ugh, fine,” Aaron says in mock protest. “What harm could it do, hey?” 

He’s not so sure he’ll ever send it, anyway. 

—

He makes it through the night, that feeling in his stomach still won’t settle but between the 3 phone calls with Victoria, 7 hugs from Liv, 5 from his Mum, and a bunch of stupid videos from Adam and Holly, he gets through it. 

He wills himself out of bed in the morning and falls straight down into his desk chair and opens a new email. He stares at the blank screen for so long, knees tucked up into his chest and starts typing. 

_Dear Red,_

He thinks about what he and Vic said last night, thinks about what they planned but he can’t move past that. The tiny cursor blinks up at him over and over again, and he stares at it until his vision starts to blur. He doesn’t know what to say. It feels ruined now, somehow, now that Red will know who he is. It feels silly for him to even bother signing off as A. Instead, he deletes the message altogether and throws his phone onto his bed, heads for a shower before he sets off for college. 

Aaron breathes out slowly, shakily, resting his forehead down against the cold tile of the bathroom wall. The shower water washes over him like a storm, warm on his neck and down his back, warm over the small jut of his wristbone. The bathroom lights are off, the whole room swimming in shadows. He closes his eyes tight, slipping back against the cool tiles. 

Everything is hazy and out of focus and Aaron just wants to go back to a time where he knew what he was doing, where nobody knew who he was, nobody except that one person he thought was worth giving everything to.

He stands still beneath the showerhead, thinking about Red, about what he’s doing, what he’s thinking, if he hates Aaron. God. He couldn’t handle that. 

_He needs to know._

When he steps outside, the overhanging clouds that have been lingering the past few weeks are nowhere to be seen, and it makes Aaron grit his teeth when he steps out onto the front garden, bright sunlight hitting his skin, breath puffing up in a white cloud around him. Glowering, he steps onto the street and tries to convince himself that it’s a good idea to actually show up to lessons today. It’s a lose-lose situation. Not showing up for college today would be telling enough in itself. Besides, maybe for a few hours he can just become somebody else, he has band practise for half the day, and let himself melt into the persona he has to make on stage. 

Fortunately, he gets into a dressing room without so much as stopping to talk to a single person. Voices slot through beneath the crack in the door, and Aaron tries not to let himself feel sick when he hears his name among it all, the chatter still tainted with the giddy excitement of last night’s post, with poor Aaron Dingle being outed to the entire school, poor Aaron Dingle in love with an anonymous person online. There are multiple, frustrated knocks on the door but Aaron ignores them all, sitting on the lid of the toilet with his arms tucked over his stomach and his head ducked, toeing at the grimy floor absently.

_Dear Red,_

_I’m sure by now you know who I am. I didn’t want you to find out like this, or maybe ever, I don’t know. I guess things don’t always work out the way we want them to. I was hoping that maybe you’d reach out first. Maybe to check in, to let me know that you could still talk to me without revealing who you are._

_I want to know who you are, if that’s okay. Please don’t leave me alone in this. I don’t mean that you have to come out if you aren’t comfortable, but I promise I won’t tell anybody. I promise. Please, Red. You might just be the only friend I’ve got left after this all blows over._

_Meet me at the cricket pavilion, Emmerdale Village, at 10pm. I’m sorry for the way things turned out._

_Hopefully I’ll see you soon._

_Aaron._

—

He spots Ross lurking around the corner as he leaves college, and quickens his pace, shoulders hunched.

“Aaron, wait!” 

A hand grabs Aaron’s arm, and he whirls so fast it sends his head spinning.

“Aaron, can we talk?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” 

Ross just stares at him guiltily, and Aaron. He just – explodes.

“You,” he hisses. “You fucking– you’ve ruined everything–”

“I can explain–”

“No. No, you can’t.”

“I just, I didn’t think it would be such a big thing, but Vic – she said you–.”

“I don’t care if you didn’t think my coming out would be such a big thing,” Aaron hisses again. “You– you shouldn’t get to decide that. I’m supposed to be the one who decides when and where and how and who–” he takes a deep breath, attempts to calm himself slightly, but his voice only raises then. “That’s supposed to be _MY_ thing and you took that away from me.”

“I said I’m sorry.” _Pathetic,_ Aaron thinks. 

“Oh well if you’re sorry,” Aaron shouts. In the empty afternoon his voice echoes, the skeleton trees shuddering. “Fuck you and your stupid explanations, and half-arsed apologies. Fuck you, Ross.”

“I didn’t—”

“You said you deleted them all,” Aaron continues, still absolutely seething, vision blurred with angry tears. “I did every fucking thing you asked me to do. Got you booze when you needed it. Ran around after you whenever you clicked your fingers. Risked my friendships to keep you from _blackmailing_ me. And you want to stand here and explain, apologise, tell me that you didn’t mean to fucking out me. Fuck you, Ross. You meant it. You meant it and you took away the most important thing in my life. You took away my choice to come out, and you don’t get to stand here and make me feel bad for that. That was mine, and you fucking took it from me!”

“I made a mistake,” Ross tries again. 

“So did I,” Aaron says. He shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips, overwhelmed as he looks away. He clenches his eyes shut for a moment and hangs his head. The silence feels so heavy, their ragged breathing echoing back to them. He’s never felt so pent up. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

He isn’t sure if Ross says his name again. There’s just this brittle chasm of nothingness that cups cold palms over his ears. He has to go home. 

—

It’s bitingly cold out, the dark water by the stream is tinted silver from the moon, and Aaron feels a few breaths away from crawling out of his skin. He’s bundled up in a coat and a beanie, chin tucked into his neck in attempt to radiate a slight warmth. 

Reluctantly, he checks the time again, jaw clenching tightly. **9:52**. His body is rattling with little shivers as he speeds up his walk, he supposes he should be the first to reach the cricket pavilion, considering. The village hall glows in the backdrop, like a fuzzy bulb masked by dust, a lens out of focus. Everything feels out of focus. 

Back home, Chas thinks he’s tucked under his covers, pillows bunched up beneath the blankets on the off chance she decides to pop in to check on him. She’ll have his head if she finds out he’s snuck out, again. 

He’s alone when he reaches the pavilion. No life in sight. _Good_. He flicks aimlessly through his texts as he waits, pausing over Vic’s name. He thinks about reaching out for a second, calling her and pleading with her to come and be his bodyguard, or his wingman, or his escape if he needs one. But instead he opts for just letting her know he’s still alive, and pockets his phone. 

Suddenly he hears the soft patter of footsteps, and freezes, hands dug deep in his pockets, entire body rocketed with a sudden pulse of nerves so fire-hot it makes his cold veins burn, makes his hands go sweaty and shaky. The footsteps come closer, and he holds his breath, closes his eyes.

He’s either about to be mugged, or Red is standing behind him.

He can’t make himself turn around.

The weight behind him shifts, the telltale sounds of feet crushing against the fallen leaves, and then the ground beside Aaron is rustling, and he can feel the presence of a body so close as Red rounds to stand beside him. He still has his eyes clenched shut, head ducked, and when a gentle hand lands on his arm, squeezing, he lets out a soft, shaky breath, and finally looks over.

“What—,” Aaron says, startled, the word half-formed through his opening and closing mouth.

“Hi,” Robert says tentatively. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I think you know that answer to that, don’t you?”

“Oh stop being a twat, Robert,” Aaron says, suddenly annoyed. There’s a lump in the back of his throat that’s making him feel nauseous. If Robert doesn’t leave soon, everything will be ruined but it’s even really started. “Just go, will you? I’m waiting for someone,”

“I know.” Robert says, short and knowing. 

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“I know you’re here to meet someone,” Robert says with a sigh. “I know _who_ you’re here to meet.” 

“No. _You can’t_.” 

“I do.”

“Bullshit.” Aaron bites back. 

“I know because it’s me, Aaron. I’m—I’m Red.”

For a frozen beat, Aaron can do nothing but stare, his brain blurring into a confused thrashing of white noise, pulse rocketing up into his temples and back down to his chest. 

His brain is trying to communicate things to him but there’s still so much static spinning around in his skull. Robert looks away nervously, tucks his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I don’t—I don’t understand.” A trickle of hurt drips chilled and awful down his spine. “If this is some kind of joke—“

“It’s not,” Robert whispers, shaking her head furiously, finally meeting Aaron’s eye. “It’s not a joke. I wouldn’t do that.”

 _“Liar.”_ Aaron accuses. He can feel the fury burning through his veins, tears welling up in his eyes. He should have known the whole thing was too good to be true.

“Listen. I know this is a shock, Aaron but just—just give me five minutes,” Robert says, pleads. “To explain.”

“Go away,” Aaron says again. He already sounds like the fight’, the determination, has seeped straight out of him. “Go, Robert.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replies. “Not until you let me explain—“

“Explain what? How you and your big-shot mates came up with this absolutely hilarious plan to out the local gay kid? Make him fall for someone that doesn’t even _fucking_ exist?”i

“What?” Robert questions, incredulous. “ _No,_ Aaron what are you talking about?”

“So it was a one man job then? Or—God, _Ross_ —fuck, I should’ve known.” 

“Aaron—.

“Please don’t tell me Vic was in on it too, my best mate.” 

_“No!”_ Robert shouts, and can't help noticing the way his voice cracks around the word. “Aaron, you’ve got this all wrong.”

“I always knew you were a bit of a dick, but to pull off a pathetic little stunt like this—” 

“It’s not,” Robert whispers, shaking his head furiously, finally meeting Aaron’s eye again. “Aaron, listen to me. _Please_. This isn’t a joke. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Then what?” Aaron replies, and he presses the heel of his palm to his forehead, clenches his eyes shut. His head is so loud, _too loud._ “I mean, what–. _What_?”

They stare at each other for so long then, Robert with his bottom lip bitten painfully between her teeth, a look in his eyes Aaron can’t quite place. He’s drowning in a leather jacket, scarf tucked high around his neck, and he looks so small, a far cry from the Robert that he, _that everyone_ , knows. Something in Aaron’s brain finally ticks over.  
  
“Oh my God,” Aaron breathes. “Wait. _Wait_.”  
  
“Aaron—”  
  
“You,” he starts, but he can’t finish his sentence, mouth parted. Robert smiles nervously, eyes shining wet. He wipes at his face and quickly flicks his eyes back to the inky darkness out the small window. Aaron stares in disbelief. “You’re Red.”

A nod. That’s all he gets from Robert.

Aaron feels so, so incredibly overwhelmed suddenly, so torn between wanting to punch Robert in the face, or comfort him, or punch the nearest impenetrable surface, or maybe even kiss him, just to get it out of his system, all of it; _everything._ His heart is stampeding, erratic, head pounding, and the silence sits on him with more weight than the world.

“But…but you’re not even…you’re...” Aaron stammers, mind spinning too fast. “You’re Robert Sugden, local heart-throb.”

“I know,” Robert whispers, and he hangs his head, looks so guilty. It makes something inside Aaron break. His heart thumps painfully in his chest. “But that’s not me, Aaron. Not the whole me. _The real me._ You’re the only person I’ve shown myself to, wholly.” 

“Fuck—,” Aaron expresses. “I don’t—I don’t know what to say.” 

“I get this much be a shock, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know about me?” Aaron breathes. “This whole time? Did you know I who I was? A?”

“No,” Robert rushes out. “No, God. I had no idea, Aaron. Please believe me when I say I didn’t know.”

“We can’t,” Aaron tries, glances towards the door, already planning his getaway. “I can’t—. Can’t fucking do this.”

“Aaron, come on, we need to talk.”

The tension is rough, right snapping, oscillating in a way Aaron can’t predict. There’s so much halting, so much stop-start, so much uncertainty. Aaron bites his lip and looks away, because of all the times he’s seen this play out in his head, all the scenarios and circumstances and people he could possibly imagine, it was never Robert.

“We can’t,” Aaron says quietly, harsh, and he thinks he might throw up, stars in his head growing louder. “You know we can’t.” 

“We can’t even talk about all this? God, Aaron, of course we need to ta—“

“We can’t. _We’re not.”_ He looks back around the pavilion wildly for a second, at Robert, here, in this place, at their proximity. He needs to go home.  
  
“You need to go,” he says quickly, pushing up off the wall he’s leaning on. Everything is rushed, heavy, he can’t be here, “No. No. I need—“  
  
“Wait,” Robert says.“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”  
  
Aaron swallows.  
  
“What do you want,” he says hoarsely, “what do you want from me, Robert?”  
  
_Because you have it all, he wants to say, whatever you need from me, you’ve already got._

“Five minutes, please?” Robert begs. “That’s all I’m asking for.”  
  
Robert comes forward, like he’s trying to reassure him, make him stay. He stops right in front of Aaron, inches from his chest. His breath is sweet almost, and Aaron has to close his eyes for a moment, because he’s dizzy with it, so much in one night when it’s been nothing for so long, nothing but his imagination. His eyes are electric, tonight, hair everywhere. He’s so close. Aaron swallows, lets out a long breath, and he sees the way Robert’s eyes watch his throat, his mouth, his eyes, just for a second. Aaron’s pulse shoots up; he could reach out and touch him, and that’s too much.

“No, I—I need to go—go home,” Aaron says, hovers closer to the door with each second, those tears pushing to spill over. “This is such a fucking mess.” 

“Just—just calm down, will you, we can—.” Robert tries, but Aaron doesn’t give him time to finish, one foot already out the door of the pavilion before he breaks into a run. 

“Aaron, stop! Aaron, just—for Christ’s sake,” Robert shouts after him, speeding up for a moment, before breaking into a quick jog so he can jump in front of him, palms up and outstretched. Aaron stops in his tracks, and he falls to the ground without preamble, landing on the wet grass and pulling himself up to sit, knees up to his chest, caging himself in because if he doesn’t, he’s going to scream. 

Robert stares down at him, wide-eyed, mouth parted, both their chests heaving. He’s got a silver aura, the moon peeking through the thick clouds and shooting bullet like rays along the hills rolling ahead. 

Slowly, carefully, Robert lowers himself to sit beside him. They sit in silence for so long, watching the clouds part, drag over the hills in the dark. Aaron’s eyes keep filling with tears and then clearing again, and he’s shaking, both from the cold and from the need to just let out a slow breath and cry. Robert mirrors him, curls up his knees to his chest, looking sullen and pale-faced. 

And Aaron, well he wants to shake his shoulders, wants to grab him and yell at him because they’re still sitting here without talking. And Aaron won’t. He won’t be the first to break the silence. He’s sick of talking, sick of being this constant worry and stress, sick of this constant devastation and hollowness. He closes his eyes and tips his head forward, leans against his forearms so he can hide from the cool wind. 

He isn’t sure how long they sit there for without speaking, but each second that ticks over feels like the grip around his neck is getting tighter. Like he’s slowly running out of breath. His eyes are closed, and it’s freezing, and he wants nothing more than to curl up under a blanket and disappear for a while. Everything feels so cold. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Aaron glances up at that, tilts his head to the side to look. Robert is already staring at him, and he looks terrified himself, looks close to tears, breathing shallow and quiet. 

“Are you disappointed me?” Robert questions gingerly. 

“I don’t know,” Aaron answers honestly. “Shocked? _Yeah._ Confused? _Yeah_. Scared? _Definitely._ Disappointed? I don’t think so.”

“Okay. I was the same, the other week, when I found out who you really were,” Robert starts, voice shaky and hands too. “I was fucking terrified, Aaron. And that’s why I went off the radar for a while there. Because you’re—you’re so close to home. And that was too much.” 

“Why did you come tonight, then?” Aaron questions, and yeah, he feels like that’s a valid point. “Why come and meet me? Why not just stand me up? Forget about the whole thing. Forget about me. I’d of been none the wiser.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” Robert speaks, and the honesty isn’t something Aaron’s used to when it comes to Robert Sugden. “Right up until the last minute I wasn’t going to come. But I had to. I’ve tried so hard to forget about you Aaron. But I can’t. _I won’t_.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why?” 

“How could someone like you, _not_ forget about someone like me?” 

“Because—,” Robert starts, before pausing for a second, as if he’s choosing his next words carefully. “Because I’ve spent all these months getting to know you, the real you, and Fuck—Aaron, you have no idea how special you really are. You’ve changed—changed my life Aaron.” _Shit_. “I’m not sure I could live without you now.” _No_. 

It’s too much. Everything is too much. Aaron’s head and heart are in a battle like never before. His legs fighting with themselves. The urge to just _runrunrun_ is too strong to battle. 

Aaron turns abruptly then, makes to leave, but Robert stops him, he holds at his arm and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” He says, Aaron isn’t entirely sure what he’s apologising, but he supposed Robert isn’t either. He dips his head against it and nods, a sigh escapes his pursed lips as he settles back down next to Robert. 

When he looks up Robert’s still holding onto his arm and Aaron stares up at him in silence. The only thing he can hear is the sound of their breathing. 

“If I told you I loved you, right now, would it make any difference?” Robert all but murmurs, a sad smile curling over his mouth before he could stop it. The moment the words leave Robert’s mouth, Aaron feels something tug in his chest, though it’s more of a rip, a painful tear, blood gushing through his entire body and making his mind swim, vision fuzzy and numb. 

_If I told you I loved you. If I told you I loved you. I love you_. The words blur into static until it all sounds like distant, white-noise, echoing through the land, through his body, and then up into the night sky. "I don't know," he says, honest.

“Well I do. I love you, Aaron.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Aaron whispers, and Robert’s gaze snaps to him, wide-eyed and shocked and broken. 

“What?” Robert breathes, tears beading in the corners of his eyes.

“You don’t love me, Robert,” Aaron says, his voice worryingly calm, accepting, and he sits by and watches as Robert’s entire heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

“Yes, I do.” Robert replies earnestly, so much so it almost knocks Aaron flat. “I love you, and I think you love me too.” 

“How can you? If you’re telling the truth, and you’ve only just found out it’s me, then how can you love me? You don’t even know me, not really. I’m just your sisters best mate.” 

“But I do, Aaron. I do know _you_. I know all these things about you that would seem insignificant to anyone else, but to me, they mean everything.” And God, Aaron’s not sure his heart can handle this right now. “I know that you’re obsessed with Damon Albarn. I know that you prefer baths to showers, and you absolutely cover the bathroom in sweet candles. I know not talk to you before nine in the morning. I know that you were eight years old when you first hear Toothpaste Kisses, I also know that’s the day you first asked your Mum for a guitar, but that it took 3 years of pleasing before she gave in.” 

And fuck, no one has ever paid so much attention to Aaron. So much attention to all the small detail. He was no sure no one ever would. 

“I know that you have this massive fucking heart, so big, so good, full of so much love you don’t know what to do with it sometimes. I know that you’ve made me a better person, indefinitely. I know that you’re the bravest, most selfless, gorgeous lad I’ve even known.” 

It’s all Aaron can do to shake his head, desperately biting his lips to keep the tears away. At Robert’s words the tentative grip he had on himself finally snaps, and he hides his mouth in the crook of his elbow to muffle the sound that tears it’s way out of his throat.

Robert pauses, blinks at him in the glow of the moon and stars. They’re still for a moment, just watching each other, and then Robert’s grip on his shoulder tightens. He says something — _Aaron’s name_ — and then pulls, until Aaron let’s go. 

Their faces are so close, noses bumping, the brush of a cheek, and Aaron sucks in a tiny breath and gently, finally, lets go.  
  
It’s barely a whisper of a touch, but he hears Robert inhale, feels him tense as their mouths softly brush.

It turns out to be the most familiar place in the world. Robert stops the spiral, the internal battle, and catches Aaron with a strong, large hand curled around his cheek. 

_And with heart shaped bruise_

_And late night kisses_

_Divine_

Shit. Aaron pulls back, this terrible feeling flushing down his entire body like a rush of ice water. _Fuck_. 

“No—no,” he mumbles, lips still only a whisper away from Robert’s own. “We can’t do this, Robert,” he says sternly. “We shouldn’t have—never should have. Fuck I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” Robert says, hoarse. His hand still on Aaron’s cheek, hot to the touch. “It’s fine, yeah?”

“No, Robert. Not it’s not fine. It can’t—can’t ever be _fine_.” 

“Why? Why are you so against this, us, Aaron? Why?”

“Why do you fucking think?” Aaron exclaims, voice rattling, shattering all that peace, that tentativeness from only seconds before. “Victoria! Name ring a bell?”

“Well yeah,” Robert retorts, tongue suddenly sharp. “She does happen to be my sister.”

“Exactly!” 

“What does that matter?” asks Robert. 

“What does it—“ Aaron starts, but his voice gives out. There’s a tremor in it, and Aaron can it himself, hear every heavy inhale and shaky exhale. “It fucking matters, Robert. And if you don’t understand why then maybe you’re even more of an arse than I originally thought.”

“Cheers.” Robert mumbles. 

“Sorry I—I didn’t mean that I just—.”

“It’s fine. I know. I get it.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah. Vic’s my baby sister,” Robert says. “I’d do anything, absolutely anything, to protect her. And I didn’t plan this Aaron, to fall for her best mate, but it’s happened. And there’s no going back now, not for me at least.” 

Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose. He can barely feel his fingers, and there’s a spectacular headache building right in the centre of his forehead. He’s tired. So bloody tired. But he can’t fight it anymore. 

“Same ‘ere,” Aaron whispers. “I’ve never—never felt like this about anyone before.” And God, does it feel good to finally admit that. Terrifying yet good. “Does that make me a shit friend?”

“No, Aaron,” Robert expresses, hurt flashing behind his eyes. “You couldn’t even be a shit friend. Not to our Vic.” 

“These last couple of weeks have been so hard, Robert. So hard. And you just— you left me.” 

For Robert’s part, he looks apologetic, hurt even. He huffs a quiet sigh, bows his head and when warm fingers curl around his hip, Aaron just inhales through his nose, waits. 

“I know,” is what Robert days eventually. His voice is low, even. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do this alone, you’re not alone, Aaron. ‘M not going to let you be alone anymore.”  
  
Aaron looks up at that. As a ground rule for his entire life, he doesn’t believe promises, not ever. He wants to believe Robert, wants to be able to take some of the weight off of his shoulders.

To his own eternal embarrassment, Aaron feels the sting of tears coming on. Again. 

“If Vic found out that—“  
  
Robert has a hand on his hip that falls slowly. 

“That you—you were, are, Red. Or that we—whatever happens tonight. She’d hate me, hate us, Robert.”

“She doesn’t have to know, does she?”  
  
Aaron looks away. “I can’t lie to her, Robert. I can’t betray her, or her trust, like that.”

“Aaron—“

Aaron shakes his head. “We can’t.” And he will, he knows if he stays sitting so close to Robert, so near, that he’ll lean in again. And this time he won’t be able to stop himself. So he stands. 

But Robert follows, stretching out beside Aaron. 

Again Robert pauses before replying. The silence for Aaron is weakening.

“Can’t what exactly?” Robert asks. “I’m just standing here.”

Except he’s not. Aaron swears he’s drawn closer, enough to touch.

“Aaron, don’t you deserve a chance to be happy?” Robert questions, and the sincerity, the care, in his voice knocks through Aaron like a tidal wave. 

“And that’s you is it? You’re that chance.” 

“I think I could be, yeah.” 

“I’ve never met anybody like you before, Aaron,” Robert says, soft as anything.  
  
Aaron inhales slowly. “I’m not anything special.”  
  
“Didn’t say you were,” Robert says softly. “You’re just you. And I’ve never met anybody like you.”  
  
Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that. He can barely look Robert in the eye right now, his cheeks burning. It’s so quiet between them, just the wind, the rustling of dead leaves, moonlight peeking through the clouds to rest on their frames. Slowly, gingerly, Robert reaches out and brushes a loose curl form Aaron’s forehead.  
  
“I think you’re brave, too,” Robert says, breathed in the space between them. “You got through the last few weeks. However you did it, you _did_. And you didn’t even murder Ross, which is more than I do would’ve been able to say for myself.” 

“Yeah well, he isn’t worth the effort,” Aaron says. “ _Twat_.”

“Aaron you’re so—” Robert starts, leaning down so his voice is all for Aaron, breath hot. He twists a finger round the string in Aaron’s hoodie, teeth grazing his ear, almost pressed into him now. “God, you’re so—“  
  
“No,” Aaron says quietly, body betraying him, neck arching and hand fisting in Robert’s hair for a moment as he trails his teeth, his tongue, to his collarbone, “Robert, we—“

“We can’t. Yeah I know,” he replies simply, and Aaron feels everything all at once; relief and disappointment. Until: “I don’t care,” he says suddenly, pulling away, looking Aaron right in the eye. His hands have found Aaron’s hips now, fingers kneading into them. Those same hands pull him in close, effortlessly, and Aaron closes his eyes against it, drops his gaze, tries to stop his head from saying no while everything else is saying yes. “I don’t care. Right now, in this moment, I don’t care. Do you?”  
  
For a moment, they’re frozen like that; Robert’s hands holding him close, against his chest, and unguarded. It’s so quiet. Heavy with it, aching with it. “No,” Aaron says suddenly, lifting his head until his forehead is pressed to Robert. “No, I don’t.”

Robert’s fingers burn through his clothes, and when, finally, their mouths touch again, and it’s molten, soft and gentle and cautious, Aaron’s bottom lip is caught tentatively between Robert’s and he has to let out a shudder of a breath, toes curling up so hard it hurts as Robert’s fingers gradually start to twist in his hair, pulling him closer. 

He cups Robert’s cheek again, holding him in place with a touch that’s barely there. Robert’s pulse is racing against his fingers, skin hot, and he’s nervous too, he’s got to be, because this feels monumental.

Robert’s breath is shaky, his hands desperate, and without breaking away Aaron leads him down the path and back towards the cricket pavilion, pushing Robert against the door when the reach it, Robert’s hands on his waist and lips ghosting over his jaw.

“Rob,” Aaron breathes again, trying to ground himself. He finds Robert’s hip, feels brave enough to slip his thumb under his jacket there and touch his skin, and it’s like that alone is enough of a spark to hold the pavilion up n a gulf of flames. Robert’s fingers curl around Aaron’s neck as he cleverly opens the door behind them, pushing Aaron gently back into the space. The kiss takes a different turn then, hidden in the safety of these rotting four walls. Its wetter, hotter, their mouths slotted together so perfectly, so intensely. Aaron tugs at Robert’s jacket, so overwhelmed his chest feels like it might burst when Robert brushes at his hair, over and over, the touch unknowingly tender.

Aaron is trembling when he pulls away and goes back in for another kiss, barely taking in enough air because he has to have this, have Robert, whilst he can. Robert whines when their lips touch again, a gorgeous little sound that tickles Aaron’s mouth.

He feels out of body, like he can’t register each touch and press, he can hear the rain tapping light fingers on the window and the rasp of Robert’s breathing but it doesn’t feel real. But it is real. They’re real. 

And Aaron knows, now, that whatever this is, however it leaves him when the cool sun emerges in the morning, is better than nothing.

—  
  


Over the next two weeks they meet at the pavilion as often as possible, spending whole days there on weekends, nights after college, making it their own. 

They just chill together, mostly. Barely talking sometimes, tracing patterns on palms and writing love notes on backs. They share all these tiny little moments that make for something his Mum would call a fairy-tale, _a love story._

Aaron brings along his guitar one day after band practice, he sits with it tucked under his arm, leaning it against his crossed legs tucked between the bookcase and the bed. He’s strumming along aimlessly when Robert arrives, and he urges him to continue. It’s a comforting sound, the strings mixed with Robert’s breath, the warmth of his body. Aaron can’t help but run his eyes over Robert’s face as he plays, like a mantra, back and forth over every tiny detail.

“This one sounds lovely,” Robert murmurs. “A new song?”

Aaron’s fingers freeze immediately, a tiny scraping sound echoing through the room as his fingers slip over the strings in their halt, but warmth bubbles in his stomach, numbs his lungs. 

“Um,” Aaron halts. The amber light glowing through the window rests on his cheeks, heating them further. “Yeah—yeah it’s just something I wrote.”

“Yeah?” Robert says, tiny smile quirking up. 

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “About you.”

“Oh,” Robert voices, his face immediately flushing. “Will you play it for me?”

“Nope,” Aaron finally whispers. “It’s, um, not finished yet. Give me a few weeks, yeah?”

“Fine” Robert relents. “It better be worth the wait, Dingle.”

Aaron laughs and takes in a deep breath, feeling a soft warm ebbing through his body. Aaron rarely gets nervous, is usually so brash, especially when he has a guitar and mic in hand. But Robert, well he sets his nerves alight. 

“Whatever, Sugden,” Aaron retorts eventually. 

Aaron lowers his guitar to the floor then and shuffles close, crawls over Robert so he’s got his knees and palms resting either side of his body. His hair hangs down his forehead, loose from the rain earlier that day.

“Kiss me,” Aaron murmurs. 

“Soft.” Robert whispers, the words lost against Aaron’s lips, wet kisses trailing down his jaw, to his neck, and back up to his waiting mouth.

—

It becomes a ritual then; tea times spent with the family, excuses made, and the cricket pavilion occupied. It’s a good job nobody bothers with the place anymore, really.

It soon becomes _theirs;_ this place which is rusting and flaking away day-by-day, but to them, it’s perfect. There’s a story to be told in every crack, a future waiting to be uncovered in every layer, a laugh, a cry, a dream, burrowed in every corner. 

On the tenth consecutive night there, things change. 

The pavilion is a small blur of shadows and moonlight, and the thunderstorm outside sounds like a dream as he lays awake, waiting, not quite asleep but almost there, just coasting on the edge of it.

The window beside their makeshift bed is closed, raindrops pelting against it and making the outside world look like nothing but a purple haze, lit up by a littering of stars, stark white against the dark night sky. 

Aaron hears the gravel crunching under someone’s feet as they stumble up the path to the pavilion, and their carefree humming echoes in the hush of the night. Yeah, that’s definitely Robert, Aaron thinks.  
  
There's no lights in the pavilion, just blue shadows curling around every corner, Robert creaks the door open with a tiny smile on his lips. There’s something building inside Aaron already, as Robert shuts the door behind himself. He just wants. _Wants, wants, wants._

Robert flops himself down next to Aaron on the bed. They’d put it together over the weekend. An old duvet for the floor, a few blankets and throws to keep them warm, and a couple of pillows Aaron had nicked from the pub one night. 

Wordlessly, Aaron crawls towards Robert, lays himself down on top of him, takes his face into his hands and kisses him so deeply and sweetly that the burning behind his eyes swells, throat thick with it. 

“Hm, hello,” Robert whispers against his mouth appreciatively

“Hello yourself.”

“God, I’ve been waiting for this all day. ”I love being here, with you.” Robert says, distant and drifting like he hadn’t meant to let it slip so early, and Aaron slides his fingers under his shirt, pulling him closer. Robert sucks in another quiet breath and looks down at him, cards his fingers through the edges of his hair. 

“Rob,” Aaron murmurs, and he shifts their bodies, traps Robert between his legs and slowly rolls his hips up, watches as Robert’s lashes flutter, and he swallows thickly, palms spread on his chest, thumbs rubbing slow circles.  
  
“God, Aaron,” Robert exhales, and it’s sharp and wet, his head bowed as their cocks rub, and everything feels too hot. Aaron’s skin is on fire, tingling and flushed where Robert touches, like someone has grabbed and needle and poked at his skin over and over, sensitive and raw and verging on too much. His chest heaves slightly as he sucks in a shuddering breath.  
  
They undress slowly. Aaron runs his hands over every expanse of skin he can touch, every moonlit curve, bathed in steel and twilight blue, and Robert presses into his hands, sucks kisses under his jaw as they lie sprawled together, trying their best to warm up in the cool of the winter night, holding on to each other. There’s a nervous, fizzling pulse throbbing through Aaron’s chest, an apprehension, tugging him down desperately to try and get him to listen, and he thrashes away from it and up to Robert’s mouth, burying his hands in his hair with desperation as their bodies curl together, naked and sheened with sweat.  
  
Robert’s hands are everywhere, fleeting, rough, like he can’t decide where to put them, where to keep them still, and Aaron writhes under his touch, under the half-moon indents his nails leave, the sweeps of his palms over his sides, the dig of his thumbs on his jaw. Finally, one comes to rest on his cock, buzzing hot, and he starts to jerk him slowly, so out of pace with the rest of their movements that Aaron’s heart slams against his ribs as he scrambles to hold on. Robert runs his other hand along the underside of Aaron’s thigh, gripping it tight and cupping his fingers into the place where his cheek meets his leg, rubbing and sucking wet and warm over his neck. Aaron gasps, lets out these tiny, whispered moans as Robert drags his hand up his thigh, leaving firecracker explosions in his wake, palm dragging down his cock to press lightly over his balls, then lower, fingers dragging over the sensitive skin just below, and then lower again, whisper soft against his rim.  
  
Aaron’s entire body jolts, and Robert’s mouth finds his again, fucking his tongue in over and over as he strokes his fingers up against his hole. His legs are shaking at the sensation of it, more tiny whines spilling out that Robert swallows. 

“Robert,” he whimpers, and his fingers are so harshly dug into Robert’s back that he’s afraid he’s going to hurt him, that he’ll leave a bruise that won’t fade away. Their cocks are leaking messily, leaving wet trails along their skin, and Robert moans softly against his neck, teeth scraping. “Aaron, please, please—please—”  
  
“Sh, sh,” Aaron kisses him, and they both inhale sharply through their noses at the touch. “It’s alright.”  
  
Robert’s fingers press up against him again, firmer this time, dragging in a lazy circle, and the choked off, moan that claws itself out of Aaron’s throat makes his own skin crawl with heat. Almost unconsciously, he spreads his legs wider and arches up into the touch, head tipping back, mouth parted.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Robert whispers thickly, lips smudged against Aaron’s cheek. “Fuck, Aaron. You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are.”  
  
“I—” Aaron’s voice fades away, a shuddery, stuttered breath punching out of his chest, cock twitching when Robert starts to spread his cheeks with his fingers. It’s so, so incredibly intimate, and the air around them both deliciously and devastatingly heavy, the night pressing them together like a blanket, smothering their breaths.  
  
“Can I?” Robertstarts, his gaze wavering down Aaron’s body then back up to his eyes, fingers stilling. His eyes are impossibly wide, pupils blown, but there’s this glazed unsurety to them, a tentativeness. “I wanna fuck you.”  
  
It feels as though a flush roars through his entire body at Robert’s words, tinging his chest pink, his face glaring hot. For a moment, Aaron’s throat closes over entirely, and all he can hear is the booming thunder of his pulse in his head, a crescendo of white noise, static, turning everything fuzzy and numb.  
  
“I’ve never...” he swallows thickly around the words, crackly and rough, and blinks slowly, tries to breathe through the sweltering heat. “I mean I haven’t— Nobody—”  
  
Robert stares down at him, mouth parted slightly. “Never?”  
  
Aaron shakes his head, eyes clenched shut for a moment when they sting. “No,” he whispers.  
  
“Do you..” Robert’s hands start to slow down, just a whisper of a touch now left as he leans his forehead gently against. “Do you—do you want to?”  
  
Aaron feels so incredibly exposed, laid bare, as if his every thought is being projected onto the walls for Robert to read and sift through. He’s nervous, and something feels like it’s about to break, like a storm is brewing just outside the door, ready to barge its way in and lay waste to the blue haven they’ve found in these tangled sheets, and he wills it away, wills the heat to stay, for the rain to never, ever touch their skin. 

“Because we don’t have to do anything,” Robert continues when Aaron remains silent. “You know I’d never push you.”  
  
“Yes,” Aaron breathes out eventually, when he feels like his heart is truly about to burst out of his chest. 

“Yes what?” Robert questions. 

“Yes. I want to. With you, I want to.”  
  
Robert seals their lips together softly, and his hands are barely there when he lays them on the insides of Aaron’s thighs, slowly spreading his legs apart, nails scratching so gently that Aaron’s muscles jump and quiver, fingers shaking when he cups them around the sides of Robert’s neck.  
  
The way Robert touches him is careful, and Aaron’s chest heaves with it, at the wet, sticky press of his fingers inside, the lingering burn of it, sweat clinging to his chest and his neck and his shoulders. 

He’s almost embarrassed about the heavy way he’s breathing against Robert’s neck, and the broken, strung out whines that are falling from his lips don’t even sound like him. Robert is murmuring against his ear; _that’s it,_ _you’re beautiful, brilliant_ , all these little of praise, and Aaron is sure his entire face is red and burning. His lips feel swollen and sore from how hard he’s biting down, pulling at them when Robert presses deep, spreads his fingers out and touches just right.  
  
“You good?” Robert kisses him, on his lips and his chin and his cheeks, brushing errant, sweaty curls away from his forehead.  
  
“Yeah,” Aaron says, high and quiet and breathy, a heavy weight pushing it’s palms down against the centre of his chest. “I’m good. _Ready_. Please.”  
  
He feels far away and too close all at once, when Robert leans back, rummaging through his jacket pocket for what they need. There’s a moment, suspended, as Robert’s hands find a resting place on Aaron’s body, where he feels suddenly weightless, and he closes his eyes for just a second and swallows, overwhelmed by everything that’s running through him, by flashing images of tears and smiles and hands held close, of stars and winter sunrays and _emails_.  
  
Robert’s lips brushing over his again snap Aaron out of his thoughts. They inhale together when Robert starts to push in, and Aaron's fingers scramble against the duvet under his body. 

“Aaron,” Robert whispers, shaky. “Aaron.”  
  
“Please,” Aaron pulls him closer, back arching upwards.  
  
Robert moves sure and steady inside him, these drawn out, gorgeous rolls of his hips, and Aaron’s eyes roll back, head tilted against the pillow as his body jolts with the force of it, of their bodies moving together. It’s so much, _not enough_ , and the noises that are spilling from his lips are high and broken, these desperate moans that he can’t trap or stop, that he doesn’t want to stop, because this feels so, so incredibly good. Robert feels so, so good.  
  
“Fuck,” Robert pants against his neck, and Aaron glides his palms over the sweaty planes of his back, feels the muscles there shift when he snaps his hips. “You feel—. God, Aaron.”  
  
“More,” Aaron manages to stutter, legs shifting and writhing without his control, and he sounds so whiny, so breathy. “Robert, please. Want everything.”  
  
“Yeah,” their foreheads knock together as Robert shifts. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.”  
  
Aaron’s arm is splayed by his head, limbs loose and heavy, and Robert sucks at his skin, drags his teeth over the inside of his bicep, bites down when Aaron digs his fingers into one of his cheeks, trying to pull him closer, push him harder, legs wrapped around his waist. Robert’s hips move harder, faster, and his fingers slip over sweaty skin, sheened with want.  
  
Robert lifts Aaron’s thighs, and there, in that next thrust, he finds the electric place that makes him throw his head back and moan, loud and unabashed.  
  
Their tongues meet before their lips do, stuttered and panting and wet.  
  
Aaron comes, shaking and crying out into Robert’s skin, holding him so tightly, nails digging in, a buzzing flame roaring up over his legs and into his stomach, tears beading in the corner of his eyes. It punches the breath out of him, until all that’s left are these broken moans, and Robert hushes him, a hand in his hair, hips stilled inside him as he comes, too, their chests heaving and touching with each breath.  
  
And then Robert’s fingers are all over his face, dipping into his cheeks, skimming over his eyebrows and through his hair, thumbs pressing into his sensitive, swollen lips. He’s still inside, just breathing, and their eyes meet after a scattered beat, shiny and overwhelmed. Aaron feels it then, feels fear, looking up at this boy. He’s scared of how much he cares, of how much he wants this to be a _forever_ thing.  
  
He belongs here now; in the ripples they made, in the thick of the night clouds, in the carvings on the wall, the _A & R _ subtle yet significant. And this, Robert above him, holding him like nobody ever has, touching him where nobody else has touched, it belongs to him. They belong to each other, now, and Aaron is shaking, bursting at the seams with how brilliant yet afraid he feels.  
  
“Aaron,” Robert breathes, and he pulls out slowly, kissing over his cheeks again and again.  
  
“Ah,” Aaron winces, legs twitching, because it burns slightly, and he feels strangely empty.  
  
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Robert splays his fingers over his cheeks, searches his eyes.  
  
“No,” Aaron wraps his arms around his waist, shakes his head over and over. “I’m okay, I’m good. That was—was—amazing.”  
  
When Robert smiles, it’s this sharp, bright thing, shiny enough to hide that same shakiness that Aaron is too dazed to cover. The shine of the moonlight kisses his cheekbones, and his body is all shady, hazy and soft when Aaron traces his fingertips over his collarbones, his shoulders. They lie there for so long then, just looking at each other, and the moon watches on through the window pane, lighting up the glass.  
  
Eventually, the sun begins to peak over the horizon, its bright today, the kind of piercing light that comes with the beginnings of a crystal clear cold snap and Robert is still tracing patterns on Aaron’s skin, up and down and up and down. They say nothing, but Aaron pulls up the sheet eventually, cocooning them in and cuddling Robert close. 

It’s getting late, or rather, early, when Aaron finally dares to speak. Each time he blinks, his vision flicks between fuzzy and clear, a thin sheen of tears settling. He isn’t sure why, exactly, why he can’t get rid of the lumps in his throat, the shake in his fingers that comes from the nervous shudder of his heart each time Robert breathes out against his neck.  
  
“I love you,” he whispers, barely a sound, staring up at the ceiling. “I love you, Robert.”  
  
Robert never answers, fast asleep, fingers curled soft and calm against Aaron’s skin.

—

Winter comes around in the blink of and eyes and makes its home in their bones.

Winter is nothing but mornings full of ice-cold kisses and coffee stained smiles, the unbearable chill of Monday morning assemblies. It’s snow in their hair and glove clad fingers entwined, warmth spreading from palm to palm like a bolt of rewired electricity. It’s beanies pulled over eyes and kisses below, matching mistletoe boxers and never-ending promises of more. It’s sprawled lyrics and hand-drawn hearts, lessons skived in favour of it all. 

_Robert finds Aaron hiding out behind the bike shed at lunch. Aaron knows its a stupid place to hide, and that he’s probably too old to be skiving lessons now, but he used to spend so much time here, that it’s instinctive._

_He’d had a run—in with Ross, and it’s been weeks, months since everything kicked off now. And sure, Aaron might be on top of the world with Robert by his side, but even so, Ross is a twat. A twat that Aaron won’t even forgive._

“What are you doing?” _Robert asks from behind him._  
  
“Writing,” Aaron says. He shifts, pulls his hoodie closer around himself, and takes a slow breath. “Is that okay with you?”  
  
“Don’t be a prick,” Robert mutters, cutting his eyes away. His own cigarette is burning uselessly between his fingers, time floating up and away.  
  
“I’m not,” Aaron says. “You asked, mate.”  
  
“I hate it when you call me that.”  
  
“I know.”

“Now who’s being a prat, hey?” 

_“Still you,” he murmurs in response._

_“Uh, liar,” Robert grins as he perches beside Aaron, legs kicked out and back leant against the cool metal. “Come on, what’re you writing?”_

_Aaron halts his pen, “A song,” he says as he pinches him._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Ow!” Robert complains, feigning rubbing his arm like it actually hurt._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Well quit be annoying then,” Aaron replies, teasing._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Me? Annoying? Never!”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Aaron scrunches his nose at him. “Top secret, this is.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Oh, come on,” Robret pouts, bats his eyelashes. “Just give me one line.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“No,” Aaron says flatly, bringing his pen back to paper. He does nothing but draw an aimless spiral in the corner of his page._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Please,” Robert asks, quiet, soft. Breathy. Aaron glanced up at him, at the coy sharpness of his eyes, and at the gentle wash of his eyelashes against pale skin._ _  
_ _  
_ _He mostly doesn’t want to share because this song is about Robert. Just like they all have been recently. And there’s no hiding that, really._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Fine! Fine!” Aaron relents, fiddling with his page, god he’s such a sucker for those eyes, he mocks himself privately. “If it’ll shut you up.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _He holds the book towards Robert because the thought of saying the lyrics out loud makes him feel sick. Robert takes it with gentle fingers as his eyes flicker over the words again and again, over the messy scrawl of Aaron’s writing._ _  
  
_

**_If you'll be my star_ **

**_I'll be your sky_ **

**_You can hide underneath me and come out at night_ **

**_But you can skyrocket away from me_ **

**_And never come back if you find another galaxy_ **

**_Far from here with more room to fly_ **

**_Just leave me your stardust to remember you by_ **

**_Stardust_ **

**_To remember you by_ **

_  
_ _  
__“Woah,” Robert breathes, meets Aaron’s eyes over the top of the notepad. “I had no idea you could write like that.”_

_“I don’t write all that often,” Aaron explains. “Only when I can find the inspiration.”_

_“Well, the words are gorgeous,” Robert says, and then softly, he adds: “You’ve got such a talent, Aaron.”_

_”Thanks,” Aaron says, just as soft, because if he talks any louder his voice is going to do something stupid like break._ _  
_ _  
_ _Robert hands the notebook back over slowly. “You should write a song about me,” he says, grinning._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You’d be lucky,” Aaron retorts, smiling through the painful irony of his life, through the tidal wave of love and panic that’s roaring through his ears, heart doing something strange and violent in his chest._ _  
_ _  
_ _If Robert turns the pages back, he’ll find hundreds of words there, all for him._

_—_

Winter is the rattling of the kettle, sugary tea and rich hot chocolates, marshmallow galore, sticky fingers held tight. Its heat, the heat of Robert’s mouth when they share kisses on their lunch break, before a match, a show. It’s Malibu and coke, jagerbombs on those particularly cold nights, ice crunched between teeth. It’s the park at night, all cool, damp leaves and made up constellations, lying on their backs to watch shooting stars flash, bodies dancing on the grass. 

_Everything is still golden._ _  
_ _  
_ _It’s nearing 5pm, the village usually masked is a dusky blue by now, but tonight, the sun has decided to remain idle. The winter glow is still flashing it’s rays up—up—up endlessly, not ready to sleep, not ready to close its eyes. Almost like it’s waiting on him, watching, winking curiously on the horizon, a flicker of a ghostly flame, shooting orange sparks and red smoke through the sky._ _  
_ _  
_ _He’s sitting on a patch of grass by the small stream when he hears someone shuffle behind him. Robert. He steps out of the shadows and directly into the path of the falling sun, and suddenly he’s bathed in honey and amber, the tips of his lashes frosted by gilded light, hair shining, skin all tinged red, the soft glow of the sun can be extremely deceiving at this time of year._

_Aaron looks over his shoulder from where he’s sitting, hunched over, legs stretched out before him. “Hi.”_

_“Hi,” Robert echoes, raises an eyebrow and scratches his nose gently with the back of his knuckles, fingers curled over his jacket. “I thought I might find you here.”_

_There’s a long moment where neither of them says anything, Robert perched down next to him, looking out over the streams, their fingers dancing in the grass._

_Aaron turns the music he has playing through his phone down a notch. Gives Robert a smile, but even Aaron knows it doesn’t reach his eyes._

_“Tough day?” Robert questions._

_“Something like that.”_

“I wish we could just stay here forever,” Robert says into the dark. “Just like this, in this moment. Nothing else exists, except you and me and this little place we’ve made _ours_. Life wouldn’t be so bad if this was the only thing left in the world,” he says.

 **_We. Us. You and me. Just us? Forever?_ **   
  
“Yeah,” Aaron says reverently. “That’s not how it works, though.”  
  
“Shh, you spoilsports,” Robert frowns. “Right now, it is. And it’s all I want. All I need.”

_“Hm, me too,” Aaron lets himself dream. “Although, if I’m gonna be touring the world with the band, and you’re gonna some big—shot footballer, doing country and club proud, I don’t think we’ll make it from this spot right here.”_

_“Keep on dreaming, Dingle.” Robert retorts, finally lowering himself to sit beside Aaron, shoulders brushing, electricity shooting._

_“Oh I will,” Aaron laughs. “Have you always wanted to be a footballer, then? For as long as I can remember you’ve been running round in those scruffy shirts.”_

_“Not really. I wanted to be a teacher originally,” Robert says softly. “I remember I told my Dad that once, that I wanted to write novels and read all day, that I wanted to leave Emmerdale and go to a university in the city, London, Manchester, anyway but here. I thought he might– well, that he might understand, or at least be proud of my ambition.”_

_He sits forward and tucks his hands under his thighs, gaze lowered. “I feel like we all have this fire in us when we’re kids, this passion to explore things and want to see every corner of the word, live every life possible. And to keep carrying that fire, to cradle it and keep it from going out, it’s hard, y’know, especially when people—your Dad, brother—just laugh at you.”_

_There’s more to this story, Aaron knows, Robert just letting him peer through the deep water at surface level, but even this, the skim of the foamy wake to a barrelling, crushing wave, has his chest feeling weighed down with the heaviness of it all. The fact that Robert is sharing this at all feels personal enough to leave Aaron breathless._

_“Well, Andy sucks anyway. Always thought that.” Aaron thinks of his own little flame, snubbed out before he even got the chance to play with the fire. There’s something that makes him so inexplicably sad, picturing half his childhood, what I could have, should have been; a flame burning bright. He did everything he could to try and keep it alight, but no child should ever have to take on such responsibility and independence of their own happiness, their own safety. Aaron can almost pinpoint the exact moment his own candle burnt out, can still imagine that transcendence between the fuzzy innocence of everything childhood is supposed to be, and the strange, brutal truths that start to overlap into a life whenever the world deems it time._

_“What about you? You always dreamed of being part of Emmerdale’s biggest and best indie band?” Robert asks, teasing tone lowered a notch. Aaron has to take a moment to answer the question, because he’s never really delved into this before. Doesn’t think anyone has ever cared enough to hear otherwise._

_“No. Not always. Not even sure it’s what I want, not really. It’s an escape, rather than a career.”_

_“An escape?”_

_“Makes me sound crazy, I know,” Aaron starts, but his cheeks are flaming and he wishes he’d never said a damn thing. But then Robert’s placing a hand over his, giving it a squeeze and a look that allows Aaron the courage to continue. “When I’m singing, up there with the band, guitar in hand and microphone in view, I forget everything else. Every single thing that swirls around my mind; the good, the bad, the ugly—all of it just—disappears. It’s the only time it’s quiet up there.”_

_Robert gives him a soft smile in return, there’s a hint of sympathy there, and something that looks suspiciously like worry crosses his eyes. But Aaron finds he doesn’t mind all that much._

_“Anyway,” Aaron coughs. “I’ve always loved cars. Quite fancy meself a mechanic really. Doubt I’ll ever get the grades, though.”_

_“You can do anything you put your mind to, Aaron.”_

_“You have too much faith in me.”_

_“You’re so strong,” Robert whispers, accompanied with a kiss to Aaron’s left cheek. “You’ll be brilliant, whatever it is you decide to do.” Robert kisses him again, moving down incrementally. He continues, murmuring praise as he moves, brave, strong, thoughtful, inspiring, selfless, brilliant, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful._

_It’s all Aaron can do to pull him into a soft kiss, words failing him._

_Aaron soon realises they’ve been sat chatting for over an hour when a chill seeps through his bones. Above, the sky has finally fallen dark, it’s cloudless, full of milky—white stars, little bright specks spilled among the ink, clustered together like diamonds._

_Robert is breathing evenly beside him, eyes closed, body and head drooping. Until suddenly: “Oh hang on, turn it up,” he exclaims, snapping Aaron out of his trance._

_“What?”_

_“The song. Turn the volume up.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _So he does, and that’s when it registers with Aaron. Toothpaste kisses. Their song._

_“It’s our song.”_

_“We don’t have a song,” Aaron says, betraying his thoughts._

_“Uh—yes we do.”_

_“Mate do you want me to throw you in the stream?” Aaron question, tone nothing short of serious, Robert just shakes his head at him._

_The music is hazy and dreamlike, all whispers and echoes, so soft and fragile, an ode to love, to protect. Robert glances up at him, and Aaron can’t read his expression._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Dance with me?” Robert asks._

_“W—what?” Aaron almost chokes out._

_“I said: Dance. With. Me.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“That’s very—gay,” Aaron says, teasing smile soft._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You’re very gay,” Robert fires back, stands and pockets his phone, pulling Aaron up with him. “I just really want to dance with you. Especially to this song which is definitely_ **_not_ ** _ours.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“You’re an idiot,” Aaron whispers, but loops his arm around Robert’s neck nonetheless, swaying with him, tucked under his chin. Robert breathes out slow and hugs him close, arms wrapped entirely around his back, kissing his neck as they sway to the music._

 _“Lay with me, I'll lay with you, we'll do the things that lovers do,” he sings softly, presses the words right by Aaron’s ear, Aaron can feel him shiver, feel him tighten his hold and let out a quiet breath before he continues. “Put the stars in our eyes.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _They’re dusted by moonlight, all alone, blue and navy and silver, shiny eyes, wet lips. Aaron connects their mouths, and it’s the most intimate, private moment of his entire life. Robert lets out the softest sound, threads his fingers through Aaron’s hair as they sway, pressed up close. Aaron spreads his palms and draws patterns with his fingers, drawing the warmth from Robert’s body, their chests pressed so close, so tight, that their hearts beat together, back and forth as one._ _  
_ _  
_ **_So with toothpaste kisses and lines, I'll be yours and you'll be mine._ ** **_  
_ ** _  
_ _After, they lie back down on the ground, curled up, Aaron with his head on Robert’s chest, the music continuing to play through on repeat as they rest together, looking up to the stars. Robert traces the constellations with his fingers, mutters their names, and Aaron finds himself repeating them under his breath._ _  
_ _They spend hours whispering and giggling and kissing, turning nothings into somethings._

 _They end up sleeping in the pavilion again that night, pressed together as tightly as they can, sharing heat and secrets and terrible jokes, courtesy of Robert. The supernova in Aaron’s chest settles, like it’s there to stay, a happy thrum under his skin, blood full of stars._ _  
_ _  
_ _Robert’s hand somehow finds its way to his, warm even in the chill, and as Aaron falls asleep, the only thing on his mind is a foreign, steady chant of_ **_forever_** _._

_—_

Winter is karaoke with Robert at the pub, Aaron’s flushed face, drunk on whisky and red wine and snowballs, everything you’re supposed to drink at Christmas time, belting Mariah Carey and murdering Wham! It’s the crack of pool cues and the lurching ring of the slot—machines, smoke in the beer garden hazed with orange fairy lights. It’C staggering up the drive at three in the morning, voices echoing up into the sky. It’s Robert doting Aaron’s hoodie the next day, his wrists poking out, as Aaron sits on the frosted sidelines, not having a single clue about football but cheering Robert on nonetheless. 

_If there’s one place Aaron wants to be on a Sunday morning, it’s tucked up in bed. But The Sugden’s are bloody persistent when they want to be, which is how he’s ended up at one of Robert’s football matches, Victoria by his side. But now, watching Robert as he stands with his hip cocked to the side, Aaron’s hoodie slightly too small on his long arms, cheeks flushed from the cold air, and a smile that illuminates the grim look of early winter while he talks to one of his teammates, Aaron finds that his bed is actually only the second place he wants be right now._

_Because winter suits Robert pretty well, Aaron reckons. Hand motions delicate, reminding him of the way leaves fall off the trees gently, whirling around, leaving invisible traces in the air the same way Robert leaves traces of himself in everyone he meets. It’s remarkable, how nobody cares about the way he seeps through the crevices of people’s vulnerable hearts, fills them out and then leaves them to bleed with longing, he himself oblivious to it._

_Aaron knows it’s always been like that, he’s heard enough tales of the eldest Sugden’s flings to know that. People coming, wanting, needing, and Robert leaving them split open, hearts battered and bruised, completely unaware of the effect he has on other people._

_It’s cruel, as well as fascinating, Aaron thinks. The way it feels like something has been misplaced in his chest whenever they part ways, all the clothes on his back suddenly weighing him down as though they’re trying to crush him, cotton and linen starting to feel like fire and cold water, his body burning with loss, freezing with the lack of touch from him._

_And Aaron’s never liked winter. Not the grim look of it, not the way he can never tell what time of day it is, the sky looking exactly the same any waking hour, yet the middle of the night seemingly looming over the country come four pm._

_But looking at the leaves that scatter the pitch, already halfway to decay while waiting for the first of the winter's snow to overlap them, he thinks how glaringly obvious it is, how he stopped minding the shitty weather, the bleak look of the sky, how he actually began to enjoy the rotting leaves scattered across the ground, all because of one, singular person._

_All because Robert likes winter. Robert thrives in winter. And because Winter, he's come to realise, suits Robert pretty well._

_With its brilliant, bright whites, and its fierce, unforgiving chills, the frenzied way the leaves dance in the air, and the way he never knows what to expect of it, what the next day will bring._

_And now he’s realised he has stopped minding winter, he’s also come to the conclusion there is no way out. There is no way out of this mindset. This mindset in which everything reminds him of Robert. **E**_ **_ve **r** ything_ ** _is Robert._

_He's startled when he feels a soft hand curl around the crevice of his elbow, looks up from the ground to Robert’s soft smile, to his nose scrunched in amusement as his gentle fingers travel down Aaron’s forearm to his hand, eventually lacing their fingers together._

_“Hey,” Robert says softly. “Where’s Vic?”_

_“Just popped down to get us some hot chocolates,” Aaron answers, frozen teeth chattering away. “It’s bloody freezing.”_

_“I told you you didn’t have to come.”_

_“Nah, I wanted too. Besides, I wouldn’t miss you running round in these shorts, getting all sweaty, for anything.”_

_“Aaron Dingle, are you objectifying me?” Robert questions, smug in place, ever so Robert—like._

_“Me?” Aaron mocks, fake—absurd. “I would never do such a thing.”_

_The way in which Robert’s fingers leaves their clasp in Aaron’s own is sudden. A cold chill sweeps right through his body and he’s already half-way to grabbing Robert’s hand back when he hears the tell-tale sound of Victoria whistling away to herself. She’s already halfway back up the hill, two steaming cups in hands, and they’re lucky really - too wrapped up in each other that they were only a mere second away from being caught._

_“Oi, losers,” Victoria greets them. “What you two chatting about.”_

_“Oh, Uh–“ Robert stumbles slightly “Just teaching Aaron here the offside rule, he’s got a lot to learn about football.”_

_And with that Robert runs back off to prepare for the second half. Only turning back to fling Aaron a wink when Victoria has her eyes to the ground._

_—_

Winter is cinema trips that never end, rows of empty, plastic chairs and a giant screen to show all. Saturday night at ten o’clock, the two of them tucked away at the very back, throwing popcorn into each other’s mouths with a kiss to seal every victory. It’s hands cupped around jaws and arms and hips, traces of sweet and salt between their teeth. It’s missing half the film and giggling when they break apart, fifteen years old again on a first date. It’s whirlwind movies followed by lazy evenings and even laziers mornings. 

_All Aaron is sure of is that Robert’s mouth is on his dick and his hair is threaded through his fingers, and in these few moments that exist between them, that’s enough. These are the moments he has come to rely on, now, and he takes them blindingly._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Shit,” he breathes, tasting the alcohol on his own tongue, or maybe it’s from Robert’s, he’s too hazy to remember as his hips roll up, “shit, Rob.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _He’s close, and Robert knows it, one hand on Aaron’s cock while the other works over his own, quickening as Aaron comes apart under his tongue. Aaron tries to arch up into the heat of Robert’s mouth, and is met with resistance, fingers digging into his side for a moment, leaving marks, Aaron thinks._

 _Robert pulls off for a moment, swirls his tongue messily round the head of Aaron’s cock before taking him back down all in one go, and it’s too much for Aaron._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Robert,” he moans, writhing against the sheets, nails scratching his scalp, but Robert doesn’t pull back, not for one second, and with a final tug of his hair Aaron comes, hard, Robert’s eyes brimming with tears as he swallows around Aaron’s cock and comes seconds later._ _  
_ _  
_ _It’s always quick, hot, rushed, because it’s what they’re used to. It’s all they’ve got. Robert pants for a moment, breath catching, head resting on Aaron’s thigh before he pulls himself up, knelt between Aaron’s legs, flushed prettily and eyes sleepy._ _  
_ _  
_ _Aaron expects him to blink back into the real world before standing, shakily, pulling his clothes on and whispering a: night, Aaron, into the dark, slipping out through the window. But he doesn’t, he remains unmoving and just looking, looking at Aaron like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be._

 _And then he leans forward, all of a sudden, like it’s on a surge of adrenaline, and kisses him._ _  
_ _  
_ _It’s not anything really, it’s tired, messy, limbs all tangled, sticky skin and wet eyes, but it’s the first time they’ve done this in so long without the charge behind it, rough and needy. It’s almost light, Aaron thinks, as Robert’s lips break away for a second before he ducks back in._

_Aaron feels light._

_Robert makes him feel light._

_Robert settles next to him for a while, both of them looking up at the ceiling, hair splayed together across pillows. He pulls the sheet up over them half—heartedly, air growing cool once again as energy is replaced with a relaxed haze, a desire to be close, and Aaron’s heart almost feels faster now than it did moments ago._ _  
_ _  
_ _“’M so tired,” Robert slurs. His eyes are open, just barely, and Aaron wants nothing more than to curl into him, hand sitting on his chest, Robert’s head resting on his as they drift off._ _  
_ _  
_ _He clears his throat a little, nods._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Big day?” Aaron asks, and Robert just snorts._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Oh, yeah,” he drawls, “fuckin’ huge. Woke up at midday, went to footie practice, had a latte, and then an americano. Action packed.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Aaron laughs, just for a moment, let’s himself and lets them, really, have this one._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You lead the life of a middle aged person, ya know that?” Aaron asks, and Robert laughs back, happiness overlapping in an infinitesimally fast second. Aaron gestures to his suspiciously—old—man shirt on the floor. “Dress sense and all,” he says._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Cheeky,” Robert replies with a grin, head turned now and eyes on Aaron, “I’ve started reading the newspaper, and everything.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Aaron’s cheek is pressed to the pillow as he looks over at Robert in vague disdain, lying on his side and shifting slightly to get comfortable. There’s a sense of_ **_permanency_ ** _right now, however fleeting it might be. He shakes his head as best he can, pushes Robert’s face away gently._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Of course you do,” he mutters, “Mr. Sugden.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Robert rolls his eyes, bats hand Aaron’s off and turns to lie on his side too, heads almost pressed together and legs accidentally tangled in the movement. Aaron’s stomach swoops; it feels big, somehow, then again almost everything with Robert does._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You’ll be joining the bowls club, next,” Aaron laughs, feels Robert’s foot drag lazily along his ankle._

_Robert’s jaw drops, hand swatting at Aaron’s hip, a little lower than necessary, curling around the dip of his lower back._

_“Maybe I will. I am a sporting entrepreneur, after all. Unlike some.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Aaron laughs, leaning in for a second and pressing his lips to Robert’s, “you calling me lazy?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Robert pauses, as though he’s considering his answer._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Unmotivated, maybe,” Robert says smugly as he rolls them over till he’s hovering over Aaron, eyes wicked and outraged all at once._ _  
_ _  
_ _“What!” Aaron laughs, struggling under Robert’s weight, “Well maybe you’ll have to skip training tomorrow, give me a private session, show me the ropes and all that.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Robert laughs, good—naturedly shocked, and reaches behind him to slap Aaron’s thigh. Aaron takes it as his opportunity to gain a bit of leverage, moving quickly until they’re reversed, Robert flat on the mattress and Aaron in his lap, hair messy and flopping into his eyes._ _  
_ _  
_ _And it is there that the few moments of simplicity fall away, turn into something more. It’s always a lingering touch, look, moment, that does it, and tonight it’s this; eyes locked and skin hot. They’re moments they’ve always tried to get rid of before; a laugh or a distraction or something, anything, to stop them enduring, growing louder and heavier. Because they aren’t supposed to be doing this._

 _Aaron’s heart quickens under Robert’s gaze. He could grind down now, rock his hips just right and get him off lazily, easily. But he doesn’t want to, right now. Doesn’t want to feel alone in his own bed with this person he’s growing to love, and Robert seems to be on the same page. When the question comes, Aaron’s almost expecting it._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Do you mind if I stay tonight?” he asks quietly, and Aaron closes his eyes, feels the way Robert’s fingers press into his skin, gentle but secure, and knows he wants nothing more than to tangle himself up in Robert’s limbs and fall asleep._ _  
_ _  
_ _“No,” he says, equally as quiet, tiredness rolling over them, or maybe it’s the thickness in the room, now, “no, s’okay.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Minutes later, settled together (together, Aaron thinks, what a word), Robert’s face in his hair, breathing in sync, Robert says it._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Love you,” he whispers, and maybe he thinks Aaron’s asleep, maybe he doesn’t, but the words are there, “I love you so much.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _And for the first time in weeks, Aaron falls asleep with his heart steady._

Winter is road—trips to the next town over, miles of untouched land and a bench on top of a hill. It’s red skies, pink skies, skies of purple and orange, streaks pulling together, sun sinking like molasses on the edge of the muggy horizon, a flask between them, hands in each others pockets. It’s fossil hunting and stone skimming. Secrets rippling like the water below.

_“I want to take you somewhere,” Robert announces as they step into his car in sync._

_“Where?” Aaron murmurs._

_“It’s a secret,” Robert says. He rubs his thumb over Aaron’s hand one last time before sparking the ignition._

_“Oh?” Aaron says, and Robert just rolls his eyes back at him._

_“Can you keep a secret?” Robert questions, and Aaron blinks at him, confused at the seriousness that clouds over Robert’s eyes, the way he bites his bottom lip between his teeth._

_Aaron holds out his pinky. “Promise.”_

_They share a packet of chocolate digestives as they drive, hot air running through the filters of the aircon, steaming the windows. Robert’s got chocolate smeared down his chin, and Aaron has to sit on his hands to stop himself from doing something stupid, from leaning over and kissing at the spot right there._

_When they pass the Yorkshire border, Aaron eyes Robert curiously. He hasn’t been this far out of town in forever, not down this way, and they drive deeper into the wilderness, a thick mist folding over and shadowing the path before them. It’s another fifteen minutes before Robert slowly brings the car to a halt, pulling into a tiny car park with a signpost Aaron can just make out the words_ **_‘beach’_ ** _printed upon._

_There’s another old sign that’s rusted and fallen over, pointed towards a dirt track, warnings in white and red, decayed around the edges. Aaron can’t see a beach, can’t even imagine one nearby, and the furrow between his brow deepens as Robert slots their fingers together and starts to tug them straight down the path, dried out leaves crackling under their feet._

_“Where are we going?” Aaron questions._

_“I told you,” Robert smiles at him over his shoulder. “It’s a secret.”_

_Even though there’s no visible path, Robert seems to know exactly where he’s going. His steps are sure, and he leaps from rock to rock as they start to decline. Robert keeps a firm grip on his fingers, his face is a little flushed._

_Finally, they break through the final treeline and stumble onto sand._

_It’s a tiny cove of beach, just a thin strip of white—gold that’s bordered by cliffs on either side, rockpools stretching out to the water and meeting the waves, foam spraying. Robert drags him along the sand, already flicking off his trainers and socks. Aaron follows suit, and he barely notices the cool of the wet sand, grains sticking on his soles._

_Robert stops them by the edge of the rockpools, just before the rock itself merges with the sand, and where the foam of the waves fizzles out to a dull trickle._

_“Be careful,” he says, stepping up onto the rock. “Try not to step on the sharp bits, you’ll cut your feet.”_

_“That’s reassuring,” Aaron murmurs, almost slipping as fizzling seawater hisses over the gleaming rock. Robert holds onto him closely, and they start to tread through the slightly warmer water of the singular pools._

_“I’ve seen that book you’ve got in your bedroom,” Robert starts, voice so soft that it’s almost lost under the lapping of the water around them, and then at Aaron’s audible huff of confusion, he continues: “I know, I was just as surprised to discover you own an actual book. Anyway, that fossil one. I figured you must like fossils, find them interesting or whatever.”_

_And yeah, Aaron’s definitely got tears building in his eyes already._

_“I thought we could look for some, maybe collect a few and take them home? You could buy a little pot for them or—or maybe display them on your shelf or, I don’t know,” Robert sighs. “It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?”_

_Aaron blinks his eyes quickly; once, twice, three times. “No. God no, it’s—Rob—you’re—,” Aaron stutters. “Amazing. You’re amazing. Let’s got hunt those fossils.”_

_The water stretches out endlessly before them, past the expanse of rock. The waves curl into the shoreline in steady sets, huge and unbroken, the water navy and gurgling, deep despite being close to the sand. Another set of waves starts to wash through, and the water rushes over their ankles, spitting up over their legs, dotting their shorts._

_60 minutes and almost as many fossils later, and Robert leads them to a cave at the foot of the beach._

_Beneath them, the floor of the cave is dome like, deep but still translucent blue, and Aaron can see all the tiny details of it, the shadows of starfish and tiny crabs huddled close on the rocks, baby blennies swimming in wide circles at the very bottom, the seaweed and barnacles and dark sponges that splay themselves out, the patterned shells of limpets turned pearly white when the sun hits them through the water._

_It takes him a while to notice the etchings on the cave walls, the white scrapes that have been carved into the clay red, and he tilts his head up as he marvels at all the names that are engraved, that are part of this tucked away place. Robert interlocks their fingers as he runs this other hand over a bunch of names. There’s a few that stand out to him, namely ‘_ **_Robert’_ ** _and_ **_‘Victoria’_** , _but then there a third name below, Mum, it reads, accompanied with a date. A date Aaron has memorised in his head, his heart. Sarah’s death._

_“We used to come to this beach a lot as kids, when we were still one big, happy, family. Me and Vic wrote our names the summer before Mum died,” Robert explains. “Andy thought it was childish, but me and Vic, we spent all day finding a rock the right size to make the carvings.”_

_Aaron offers him a smile and a reassuring squeeze to his hand._

_“When I came back a year later, alone,” he continues slowly, face shadowing, “everything was… different. Broken. Mum was gone, forever, and Andy was the golden boy, and my head—well, everything up there was just so fucked up. I wrote her name below our that day, it made me feel closer to her, somehow.”_

_Aaron suddenly feels like the cave has shrunk down, like the walls are scraping against his skin and his shoulders are hunched in painfully, knees tucked up into his chest as he listens to Robert speak, the distant, detached way he’s running his palms over the rock. He wasn’t expecting to hear all this, and now he isn’t sure he wants to, isn’t sure he deserves these explanations, these stories that feel too personal, and although he was there, although Sarah’s death hurt him too, he never once imagined Robert struggled so much. He didn’t show it. And that thought alone makes Aaron want to cry._

_“Anyway—" Robert hakes his head. “That’s a whole other story. The point is that this place, it was Mum’s favourite place, mine too, now. It’s hidden away and some of the locals don’t even know it exists. And I guess I just– I thought you should see it, because you’ve seen what’s underneath the surface of everything else with me, and you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know, and you actually care. You care about me and I care about you, and I think you’ll care about this place just like I do.”_

_Aaron stares at him, dumbfounded and flushed, almost shrinking under the intensity of Robert’s gaze, under the open and vulnerable wideness of his eyes, the earnestness of his shuddering chest, the refracting light on the water shimmering and dancing on his cheeks. Then Robert bends down, and he dislodges a small rock from the pool beside them, slippery and shining and sharp, and he loops his tan, callused fingers around Aaron’s wrist gently, places the rock in his palm and curls his fingers over the smoothness of it._

_“Robert,” Aaron breathes, staring down at the rock in his hand, at Robert’s fingers folding over his own._

_“Go on,” Robert lifts his hands away, and he gestures his head towards the cave wall, towards years and years of traditions and secrets and heartache and grief. “Do it.”_

_“I can’t,” Aaron says, and his voice is caught in his throat suddenly, overwhelmed and unsure of himself._

_“I want you to,” Robert says, fiercely._

_Aaron just stares at him for so long, the rock in his palm seeming to weigh his hand down. He can’t help but feel that there’s something else here, something more that Robert isn’t saying, that there’s a part of this story that he won’t ever hear or see, that even the most vulnerable and delicate things are still hidden by that wall of glass, that he’s only just starting to crack through. With Aaron. Other things, though, have already shattered the glass completely, and it scares him now, the thought that he’s managed to break down that barrier. It scares him that he doesn’t quite know what to do now that he’s smashed his way through._

_Turning slowly, Aaron runs his fingers over the damp wall, and finds a place to squeeze his name in, where there’s a smooth gap of deep red. Slowly, and carefully, he carves AARON into the rock, fingers shaking as he scrapes the colour away and leaves white scratches, leaves his name imprinted here. It’s more than the lingering bruises on Robert’s neck, more than the borrowed football shirt on Aaron’s back, more than the lyrics twirling round Aaron’s head._

_It’s more than the emails. More than the winter. It’s a piece of him permanently etched here. A piece of Aaron and a piece of Robert, displayed in eternity._

_—_

Winter is the wet glow of candlelight when Aaron’s family are away for the weekend, an orange flicker and a burnt meal. It’s spiderwebs catching the last of the day's sunlight, Robert being Aaron’s hero and soft whispers about nothing, about aliens and fast cars and the moon, their plan to build a spaceship and fly it to Saturn, to collect space dust and bring it back to earth, their eyes hazed with red, tongues slick together, breaths soft, sated, calm. 

_Aaron is in love._ _  
_ _  
_ _He’s probably a little too in love for it to be considered healthy, but there’s really no helping it when he’s got Robert by his side._ _  
_ _  
_ _“What's all this?” Robert asks when he walks into the kitchen, just off the phone with Victoria, seemingly enjoying her day out and believing Robert is tucked up in bed with a hellish migraine._

 _Aaron’s still got his pink apron on, hands clasped behind his back and rocking on his heels. The kitchen is looking like a war zone him._ _  
_ _  
_ _“It’s dinner,” he says, and the duh is implied. “You said you were hungry.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Uh,” Robert stammers, eyes flicking all around the room. In the seconds it takes Robert to react, Aaron looks over the scene again, and wonders if he’d gone a little overboard. It’s nice, objectively, the kitchen table covered in a pristine white tablecloth and some deep red rose petals he found hidden in the cupboard. There are candles, too, flickering in the darkness of the evening, and it’s all terribly, terribly romantic. Aaron thinks that’s exactly what Robert deserves. “I am.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Good,” Aaron grins. “Sit down, then.”_

 _When he doesn’t make a move, or say anything for close to a minute, Aaron hesitantly reaches out to touch his elbow. “Robert?” he asks._ _  
_ _  
_ _Robert flinches, like he’s been torn out of a trance.“Did you—did you cook for me?” he asks, and finally turns around. His face looks soft in the shadows, eyes sparkling like galaxies._

_“Uh yeah — yeah,” Aaron stammers, suddenly embarrasses. “Well, I tried.”_

_“What’s all this for, then?” he asks. And God, Robert looks gorgeous in the candlelight; soft and angular all at the same time where the flames flicker and throw shadows._

_“You,” Aaron answers, with a hint of a smile playing around the corner of his mouth._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Why?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Aaron’s grinning now, smile stretching beyond belief, as he pulls out his own chair across from Robert. His foot immediately lock around Robert’s ankle. “Just ‘cause,” he shrugs. “I love you, don’t I?”_

_“Yeah, and I love you too, Muppet.”_

_“Right, eat up then.”_

_“You know,” Robert starts as he leans across the table to whisper in Aaron’s ear, “we should take this to the bedroom once we’re done. Make the most of an empty house whilst we have the chance.”_

_“I like your thinking, Sugden.”_

_The meal is delicious, it’s not quite on par with Victoria’s cooking but he couldn’t exactly ask for her help, could he._

_They finish up at almost the same time, both plates clear of any scraps. “Everything alright?” Aaron asks._

_“Amazing,” Robert answers around a satisfied moan, little sparks of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’d like to compliment the chef.”_

_“Idiot,” Aaron mumbles._

_As if on cue, Robert abandons his cutlery and pushes his plate slightly towards the middle of the small table, before leaning his upper body over._

_It’s his way of asking Aaron for a kiss without actually uttering a word, he knows this now. But they’ve got all night and Aaron is nothing if not a tease._

_And so leans over to meet Robert in the middle, eyes locked on lips before he tilts his head at the last second, planting a kiss on Robert’s cheek._

_“Later,” Aaron promises, “these pots aren’t going to wash themselves, are they?”_

_—_

Winter is falling in love like never before.

—

Winter is everything.

—

Christmas passes in a blur of mulled wine and snowball fights. Gift exchanges and intertwined glove—clad hands. Rosy cheeks and cold noses. And for the first time in his life, Aaron willingly joins in the Christmas festivities. 

But it flies by, as usual, and before they know it, the New Year is creeping up on them. 

And with New Year’s Eve comes the annual village party. 

—

It’s late, when he shoulders his way inside. The party already seems to be in full swing. Aaron side—steps the empty shot glasses that are scattered across the floor and starts to shoulder off his coat. The air inside the pub is a little sweltering and stuffy, the place already full to the brim with Sugden’s and Dingle’s and everyone in—between.

And then a space in the crowd opens up, just a shifting of heads, and he sees Robert a distance away. He’s standing right against the far end of the bar with his back against the wall and a red cup in his hand, laughing as he talks with some guy that Aaron doesn’t know, has never seen before.

For a moment, Aaron just stands there, watching him. And he hates how can’t just go over there and introduce himself, can’t show his love for Robert. 

It’s slow-motion when Robert turns his face, eyes wandering around the party as the lad he’s standing with keeps talking in his ear. Aaron doesn’t move, just stands still as people spill past him.

When their stares finally meet, Robert’s eyes widen as a grin stretches his mouth. Aaron just shrugs and nods a little. The whole thing feels weird, odd, this isn’t them anymore. But they hadn’t exactly spoken about how they were going to handle tonight, how they were going to be in the same space, with all their family and friends, and act as if they were mere acquaintances. Nothing more. 

When he steps back for a second, the first person he bumps into, quite literally, is a stumbling Victoria, her cheeks already flushed pink, all glassy—eyed.

“Found you!” She shouts, latching onto Aaron’s neck immediately for a choking hug that he doesn’t pull away from. “You’re late! I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Course not,” Aaron laughs, Victoria's dramatics always seem to bring a laugh out of him. “Nowhere I’d rather spend my New Year’s.”

“Well that’s a lie, Dingle. We’ve been doing this since we were what? 4 years old? And we’ve complained about each and every one of them. Although, I suppose we can legally drink this year, which is nice,” Victoria says, rambling on. “Speaking of, you need a drink!”

“Actually, I wasn’t going to–” Aaron starts, but he doesn't get the chance to finish before Victoria almost pulls his arm out of its socket as he drags him towards the bar.

Towards where Robert _was_ standing. But it seems he’s disappeared. Aaron exhales, some of the tension leaving his body. As much as he wants to be close to Robert, it’s safer in this situation that he’s not. 

Vic thrusts a cup into his hand, the smell of Malibu overwhelming, before pulling him along again, winding them through clumps of people, until they spill out into the beer garden. Aaron almost backs away immediately, soft orange light falling down over a ping—pong table. Ross and Holly are together on one end, Robert and Adam on the other, and this is Aaron’s worst nightmare, all of them mixed up together. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to begin separating all his feelings, all these different versions of himself.The one that still despises Ross, the one that loves his best friends immensely, the one that’s putting said friendship on the line for Robert, the one that hates himself for breaking his and Vic’s most crucial friendship rule. It might be a mistake when he knocks back the drink Vic made him. He just needs a little courage to handle this. 

And Robert looks gorgeous, God, hair feathery and soft and a little sweaty on his forehead. He’s wearing this white shirt that Aaron’s never seen him in before and a pair of nicely fitting dark jeans, and Aaron kind of aches to touch him, to maybe hold his hand and feel the places their fingers slot together with such familiarity. On the other end of the table, Ross has another tiny crowd gathered behind him again, both he and Adam well on their way to drunk and two cups away from deciding the winner of this beer pong.

Aaron tips back his cup, turns, and shoulders his way inside.

There’s a period of time in which he partly lets himself get lost within the celebrations, soaking up the love and life of the place, before he stumbles between the crowds and the hallway to the toilets. He’s staring at himself strangely in the mirror, suddenly feeling lost, trapped, _lonely._ And as he numbly washes his hands, Robert pokes his head around the door cautiously.

“There you are,” he says, and Aaron whips around to face him.

“Here I am,” Aaron replies dully, edged with a sarcasm that lifts Robert’s brows. 

“Everything alright?” Robert muses, watching on as Aaron wipes roughly at his face. 

“Yeah. Yeah sorry—,” just what? Aaron thinks? Just want to go out there and kiss you in front of everyone? Just want to end things and stop hurting Vic? Just want to go back to the start of the year and never start this damn thing? “Just needed a breather, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Robert questions, finally stepping into the bathroom and closing the door gently behind him, snuffing out the noise from the bar. 

“Hm,” Aaron replies with a half—nod. 

“Tell you what,” Robert starts, and Aaron can almost see an idea forming in his head. “Give it an hour and we’ll get out of here.” 

“And how the hell are we going to do that?” Aaron questions, half—angry, half—hopeful. “Are you forgetting that half the village is crammed into the pub? That Victoria, your sister, my best mate, is there n’all?”

“Hate to break it to you mate, but I think she’s a little preoccupied with Adam’s tongue down her throat to bother about your whereabouts tonight.”

“Ugh. Gross.”

“So is that a yes?” Robert questions, glint back in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “Yeah, go on then.”

“Right, meet me outside in an hour. I’ll be waiting,” Robert finishes, does a quick glance around before leaving Aaron with a kiss to his cheek. 

—

The cold air hits Aaron like a punch.

“Shit, it’s so cold,” Aaron hisses, teeth chattering as he slides the side door shut behind him, careful not to make too much noise.

The sky is heavy and white, thick flurries of snow tumbling down towards the earth. Thousands of them blur together, and the patio furniture is all blanketed in ice. He can still hear the music blaring roughly from the pub, the beat rushing over him again and again and again.

“You’re so observant.”

“Shut up,” Aaron laughs, head ducked. In the shadows he can only see the shine in Robert’s eyes, the faint outlines of his features. It would be so easy to lean in and slot their lips together right here, Aaron feels almost dizzy with the thought of it, but Robert soon snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“Don’t worry mate,” Robert grins, his voice already full of laughter. “I’ll warm you up soon enough.” Aaron just shakes his head against it. 

It takes a few tries for Aaron to get the key into the lock, especially when Robert’s clinging to him and whispering all sorts of stuff into his ear. Aaron manages, though, eventually, and somehow drags Robert through the door without tripping over anything, and yeah, their both the right side of tipsy.

Aaron trips and hits the door-frame, giggling. He feels Robert stumble too and suddenly they’re bumping into each other, which only sends them further, these little uncontrollably spurts of laughter escaping their mouths and flooding the hallway. Aaron claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it, but it doesn’t work, because Aaron has found that whenever Robert laughs, Aaron can’t help but laugh too. It’s contagious, Robert’s laugh.  
  
He leans over and buries his face in Robert’s chest. “Shut up,” he half whispers, half mumbles, still giggling, “Oh my God, shut up, my Mum’s going to hear us.”  
  
Robert pokes at him. “You shut up, it’s you that’s making all the noise, as usual—” Robert says, before Aaron gets his own back and pokes him right in the stomach before leaning back against the doorf-rame, his face tilted up. His cheeks ache from grinning. 

He reaches an arm out and takes Robert by the wrist, pulling him in. Robert sways and lands on Aaron’s chest, laughing as he goes, glowing warm and happy. His face is so close. Aaron can see the tiny little freckles on his nose, like little galaxies, and he touches them lightly with a finger. Robert wrinkles his nose and bats him away, but he’s still grinning, so that means he doesn’t mind all that much. 

“We can’t, Robert. Not here,” Aaron says, his voice breaking on the last word as Robert presses an open—mouthed kiss to his throat, breathing harshly.

“Can’t we?”

And to be honest Aaron doesn’t care for the _shouldn’t’s_ and _couldn’t’s,_ not right now. He didn’t want to think. He just wanted Robert; wanted him when his smile was strained or when he wouldn’t shut up about star wars or hadn’t showered after football practice. 

And so he dragged his slack mouth up to Robert’s and claimed him the way he needed to, kissed him slow and deep, the taste and feel of him so familiar it ached. Aaron sometimes wondered if it would ever be enough, if he’d ever get his fill, if he’d ever stop feeling so needy, greedy for the way Robert would look at him with stars in his eyes and touch him as if he was the only thing that mattered.

“Rob,” he whined, biting at Robert’s bottom lip, body making slow rolls off its own accord. “We need to,” he says in between desperate kisses that are leaving both their lips bitten and raw, “go — get upstairs.

Robert clutched at the back of Aaron’s T-shirt, grinding his hips into Aaron’s one last time, teeth sinking into Aaron’s shoulder for a couple seconds, just long enough for the sting of pain to make the want hurt even more. “Come on then, bossy.”

—

With all the lights in Aaron’s bedroom flicked off, the only glow comes from the street light outside, hues of mellow oranges and bright whites, lighting their skin in odd, refracted shadows.

It’s familiar, now, the two of them here, huddled together in Aaron’s room whilst the rest of the family are away or, hopefully, asleep. And that familiarity makes Aaron ’s knees go weak as Robert pulls him away from the wall, tops and jeans long discarded when they stumble down onto the bed, hands clasped and pupils blown.

Their hips are sliding together hotly before long, and Aaron can't resist thrusting up, the sensation going straight to his cock, rapid like a bolt of lightning, and he shivers under Robert’s lips until the world starts to blur at the edges. It's all a little overwhelming being under Robert like this, all that power and strength moving above him, it makes him want to roll over and beg before they've even got started. 

“Missed this so much,” Robert whispers into parted lips, tucking his fingers into Aaron’s underwear, feeling the delicate skin there. 

“It’ been like.. Four days, Rob.,” 

“Four days too long if you ask me,” Robert retorts, shifting his hips down impatiently, eyes glinting with mischief. Aaron presses his lips against his neck, leaves a trail of hot kisses there, and smiles at the way Robert goes pliant for him, legs spreading, making room for Aaron’s hand to trail down, to cup him properly. 

Aaron takes the brief wave of stillness to get some leverage on Robert, wrapping his arms around his waist to flip them over, pinning Robert against the mattress. 

“Aaron,” Robert exhales. His mouth is so gentle when it moves, when it forms his name. His lips look like home around Aaron’s name. 

“Robert,” Aaron replies, breathlessly. 

“You gonna kiss me then, or what?”

And so Aaron does.

Robert’s mouth is soft and warm, it moves slowly against his own and time stills, then. His tongue curls gently around Aaron’s own and Aaron’s brain goes all cloudy because Robert tastes like peppermint and champagne and something that’s entirely _Robert._

Aaron cocks his head up more, kisses him properly, with fire; heat. He bites at Robert’s lower lip, pushes his way into his mouth. Robert lets him. Always. 

“Take them off,” Aaron says, fingers trembling at Robert’s boxers, glancing up to meet his hooded gaze. 

Robert fumbles, his fingers slipping as he hurries to pull the band down, Aaron kissing the strip of bare skin above the waistband as he does so.

The break in the curtain is pulling all the silvers and navy's into the room, and Aaron wishes more than anything that he could capture this moment forever, a grainy snapshot of desperation and something deeper when Robert finally rids himself of his underwear, relief flooding his face. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Aaron, come on, please—”

He would tease, love to edge Robert until he was incoherent with need, but right now, he’s just as helpless as Robert. Always is when it comes to Robert. 

It only takes seconds for Aaron to wriggle himself down so that his face is level with Robert’s hip, pressing the lightest ghost of a kiss right in the dip there before moving to tug his boxers over his hip, legs hanging nearly halfway off the bed. “God, Aaron,” Robert moans again, shifting to slide up on the bed to accommodate Aaron. 

Aaron noses lower still, sucking a bruise into Robert’s inner thigh before taking Robert in his mouth. He takes him deep right away, savouring the taste on the way down. Robert's hips are rolling in no time, the head of Robert’s cock glides over the bow of Aaron’s waiting mouth, slick and hot, teasing, as the hand in his hair clenches on every swallow, every upbeat. 

He has to swallow back a moan at the thought of it all, of being here, with Robert, instead he focuses on the circle of his thumb and forefingers keeping a tight grip on the base of Robert’s cock as he takes him back down in one go. Aaron’s learned a lot about what Robert likes in the last couple of months, and he puts it all to use now, forcing Robert to bite down on his knuckles as he works his flattened tongue over the underside of his cock. Aaron likes it too, the weight of Robert on his tongue, his jaw aching in that maddening, familiar way that makes his own hips rock forward helplessly.

It’s too soon when Robert pulls out suddenly, his body jerking back and his cock falling from Aaron’s lips, slick with his spit. Above him, Robert lets out a long, shaky breath, and Aaron hardly cares how desperate and eager he must look when he leans forward to try and get him back in his mouth. He isn’t successful, due in part to Robert pressing his thumb against his mouth instead, letting it catch on his bottom lip.

“Don’t wanna come like that,” Robert finally answers, and then contradicts his own words by letting Aaron take the head of his cock back between his lips, only for a split—second before he pops off and responds, “how, then?”

Robert takes a sharp inhale through his nose and whines in the back of his throat. “I think you know how,” he replies, smug smile only faltered by the glint in his eyes.

Aaron swallows, looking Robert in the eyes, chest lurching at the sight of him, drinking in his blotchy cheeks and hopeful expression. “Yeah. Yeah I know.” 

And God, no one has ever made Aaron’s body ache with want like this. 

“Grab the supplies then, will ya?” Robert says, as charming as ever.

“Twat,” Aaron mumbles, predictably, and finds what he needs between the clutter of rubbish under his bed, as Robert lays flat on his back and reaches to idly stroke at his own cock.

Things change then, everything suddenly becomes much _more_. Robert’s kissing Aaron as if he’s fishing for breath, one hand fisted in Aaron’s hair and the other reaching between their legs to get a grip on them both. Aaron is helpless in stopping the moan that escapes his lips, hips rocking on their own accord as his hand sneaks around his back, cupping at his hip, around the back and lower still. It’s the perfect move to get Aaron back under Robert. He’s done it enough times — perfected it — almost.

Suddenly there’s one dry finger brushing over Aaron’s hole and he barely breathes, instead he just grips at Robert’s shoulders, fingertips no doubt digging moon—shaped shadows there. 

The pressure of Robert’s finger disappears almost as soon as Aaron welcomes it, and when Robert’s fingers being to make their way back down seconds later, they’re wet, slicked up and teasing graciously. His other hand leaves Aaron’s cock to push at his thighs, exposing him completely, as Robert presses his middle finger in ever so slowly. There's more pressure and then the completely out of body feeling of Robert's finger finding a rhythm inside of him. 

Aaron’s stomach knots in anticipation, one hand moving to cover up his heated face. It’s not just the finger that has him overwhelmed, has him feeling like it’s too much; it’s Robert, it’s this feeling, the one that’s been taking over his every thought for months now; since that very first email. Aaron knows now it’s love. 

_Pure, fierce, love._

It’s not long before Robert works his way up to two fingers, gently and thoroughly and everything all at once. The third finger has Aaron clutching to the sheets, writhing and biting at Robert's mouth whenever he surges forward for a kiss. He can tell Robert’s just as eager, his hairline shiny with sweat as he twists his fingers inside Aaron, drawing subtle noises from him even though he’s doing his best to stay quiet. 

There’s a dizziness in his veins and his head and his heart and — “Fuck, s’good, Robert, just—”

Robert hushes him, but he gets what he wants, because the next thing he hears is the snick opening of the lube, the tell—tale noise of a packet being undone, and the next thing he feels is the head of Robert’s cock at his hole, barely pressing, just there. 

Any noise Aaron might have been about to make luckily dies in his throat, turns to dust and disappears right out of his mouth as Robert presses into him, his hot breath at Aaron’s ear as he slides in inch by inch. 

“You alright?” Robert questions, but it’s more of a drift of breath than an actual word. Aaron nods eagerly, pressing his cheek against the pillow, his chest tight and fingers squeezing at Roberts’s hip so hard it has to hurt. 

“Yeah,” is all Aaron can say in response, lips pressed softly into Robert’s neck. “‘M good, really good.”

Aaron gives an experimental roll of his hips then, breathing out a shuddery moan against Robert’s shoulders, and Robert responds with one of his own, squeezing back even harder. It’s all a haze after that, Robert’s blunt nails biting into his skin as he rocks into him, picking up pace, hot, wet breaths landing on Aaron’s neck.

He’s drowning in sensation, Aaron is, shaking with how intense everything around him seems. There’s lips on his neck, a heat low in stomach, and warm hand around his cock and it’s all _RobertRobertRobert._

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” Robert comments, his eyes meeting Aaron’s below him. Aaron’s sure he flushes all the way down to his chest, and he can’t even attempt to hide it. 

“Shut up” he quips weakly, and a second too late. If Robert notices how affected he so obviously is, he doesn’t say so, for once, instead acting affronted and bringing a hand to cup at Aaron’s face.

“You know, when a man compliments you —”

“I said, shut up,” Aaron groans, fighting the urge to pull Robert down and hide his face in his neck. Instead, Robert just laughs and kisses him, slow and reassuring.

Aaron angles his gaze down to where their bodies connect then, to where they become one; Robert’s muscles are tensing and there’s a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin and his breath is coming in rasps and pants, and yeah maybe it is gorgeous. _They_ are gorgeous _._ Robert peppers his collarbones with kisses and bruises and all of a sudden the angle is just so—

“Jesus, fuck — Robert — fuck,” Aaron grinds his teeth and knocks his head back but nothing matters except Robert’s body and Robert’s hands and Robert’s mouth and everything hitting him just right again and again and again. He’s hot, burning sun and Aaron's Mercury, entirely enveloped by his heated presence, obliterated.

Robert fucks him like he’s got a goal in mind then, and that goal is to make Aaron come as hard and as fast as possible, the hot drag of their bodies getting more and more intense as it goes on. Aaron starts to feel close before he knows it, _shit,_ he was close as soon as Robert got his hands on him. Now he’s constantly shoving his face into the pillow to hide the moans that spill out when Robert hits that spot dead—on. From there he feels it building, really building, his hands flying to Robert’s arse as to pull him closer, while he fucks Aaron with an unwavering desperation.

“‘M close,” Aaron's gasping barely a minute later, his grip tightening at Robert’s lower back and his other hand bunched up in Robert’s hair. He can feel the pressure in his cock increasing exponentially with each snap of Robert’s hips and he doesn’t want this to end but the ball isn’t in his court anymore. “ So close.”

Robert hips jerk forward, little _ah—ah—ah_ sounds leaving his mouth on every slow roll of his hips. “Hm, you feel so good—” he groans in Aaron’s ear. “Come for me, come on.”

And Aaron—does. His cock twitches between them, paints both their stomachs, Robert’s hips never slowing as Aaron clenches around him like a vice. He muffles a noise he’s certainly never made before in Robert’s shoulder, and there’s a burst colourful explosions painting the darkness behind his eyelids. 

They’re tangled together, folded and twisted like an unresolved riddle. Aaron can’t feel his own body ending and Robert’s beginning. He feels boneless. Weightless. He feels like he’s been set on fire in the best way possible.

_He’d burn forever if it felt like this._

It’s then Aaron realises he’s still got one hand still buried in Robert’s hair, his other on his chest, right where his heart is beating erratically. Robert mumbles something incomprehensible, wiggling around, and Aaron realises with a blush that neither of the have moved yet, and slowly detangles his legs form around Robert. Robert sluggishly moves himself away from where he’s been plastered to Aaron’s body, and they both hiss, oversensitive and suddenly cold. He tugs the condom off with one hand, haphazardly ties it and chucks it in the bin by Aaron’s beside. 

Now that he’s free to move, Aaron pushes against Robert until he gets him flat on his back, and climbs on top of him. His come is drying, sticky, between their stomachs, but neither care enough to do anything about it right now. 

“Hi,” Aaron smiles, small and soft, and kisses the corner of Robert’s mouth once, twice, _three times._ He feels so free. 

“Hi yourself,” Robert smiles back, though Aaron would argue it comes out more of a grin, and works his fingers into Aaron’s hair. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” Aaron echoes, and drops a kiss to the corner of Robert’s mouth. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” Robert replies, “God I can’t wait to spend this year with you.” 

And that sounds awfully like forever, Aaron thinks. 

_He finds he doesn’t mind one bit._

—

The new year brings a couple of blissfully peaceful weeks before everything falls down around Aaron.

When it happens, he isn’t at all prepared.  
  
The weeks had passed in this slow, syrupy way. Aaron isn’t sure if he’s asleep or awake for most of it, drifting through the muggy, wet days with heavy eyes, rain showering over everything like mist and turning the village into a clogged, muddy mess, the sky gone constantly dark and overcast.  
  
Robert drifts through this space too, weaving in and out of his thoughts hazily, a kiss here, a touch there, laughter against his neck. Hidden tears shining his eyes at night, sneaking away for half an hour when the moon is clawing through the clouds. 

But then they’ve got a whole weekend to themselves. 

A whole uninterrupted weekend of nothing but _AaronandRobert._

Or so they thought. 

They were stood in Robert’s kitchen, Aaron lent against the fridge door, coat still on, wet through and rain drops littering the floor, but neither of them care about that. Because they’re close enough to kiss, arms wrapped around each other and lips slotting together just perfectly. 

And life is good, really.

In fact, it’s perfect. 

But then it isn’t, because the door flies open and the room is filled with this awful gasp. It hits the roof, echoes, and ricochets around the room and straight through Aaron’s heart. 

_Victoria._

“Vic,” it’s Robert who breathes, still hovering a few inches away from Aaron. There’s a shine on his lower lip, wetted by Aaron’s own mouth, but his eyes are frantic and his hands are shaking. “It’s— It’s not what you think.”  
  
Victoria's jaw drops, the shock of it all written over her face. Aaron understands it. Sympathies, even. Hates himself for putting that expression there, but there's not exactly anything he can do about it now. Even though he wishes he could jump in a time machine and stop this whole damn thing.  
  
"No? Because to me it looks like you’re kissing my best friend?" She spits, pointing a furious finger in Robert's direction. She glowers at him, even though her bottom lip is trembling, and Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this angry. “Or am I wrong?”

_Silence._

“And as for you—” She adds, finger now following Aaron’s path. 

She angles her body towards him and Aaron dares to finally meet her eye, but as soon as he does, the anger drops from her face like a mask, she crumples and Aaron hates that even more. 

Aaron turns to Robert then, prays for some kind of miracle but instead he’s met with _nothing_. Robert doesn’t have the same deer-in-the-headlights look going on that Aaron is so sure his own face is conveying. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, defiant as you please, so very comfortable in Aaron’s presence that it’s blinding obvious this is far from the first time he’s been here -far from the first time has had his lips attached to Aaron’s own.

“Vic,” Aaron pleads. “I know this looks bad, but let me explain—“

“Let you explain?” Victoria throws back, shrill. She uncrumples herself, stands up a little straighter, as if she’s trying to look taller, and Aaron, well… he’s praying for the ground to swallow him whole. “What could you possibly need to explain, Aaron? I just walked in here and saw the two of you—“

Aaron opens his mouth. For a minute, nothing comes out, but he feels the tell-tale heat of an embarrassed blush spread across his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t look sorry,” she counters. “Neither of you.”

He reaches for her arm. “Vic—”

She takes a chilling step back. “So go on then, _how long_ ?” She questions, and when neither of them respond right away, she adds: “How long have you been sleeping with my brother, Aaron?”  
  
Aaron covers his face with his hands, looks back to her and some spring or wire in his heart comes loose, snaps. 

“A few months,” Aaron says, honestly.  
  
Vic scoffs. “Oh, this just gets better, really.”

“Vic I’m—“ 

“Wait—wait—” she cuts him off, turning to face Robert. The look that flashes from her eyes is unmistakable, and Aaron knows there’s no going back now. That last piece of the puzzle slotting into place before their very eyes. “You’re Red.” 

Aaron’s not sure what he’s expecting from Robert then, but it’s not the silence he offers. 

“So you’re gay then?” She asks, eyes a glint softer at that moment than they’ve been all day. “No sorry, bisexual?”

“I—uh,” Robert stammers. “Yeah. I am. I’m—I’m bisexual.” 

“And you didn’t think you could tell me, no?” Is Victoria’s only response. “Not even after everything that happened with Aaron?”

“Vic,” Robert says, pleading. “It’s complicated.” 

“Always is with you, isn’t it?” She accuses.

Robert sighs, bows his head. Defeated. 

“Why him?” Victoria asks Robert bluntly. “ _God,_ Robert, why my best friend?”

“Because,” Robert starts, his eyes flicking to Aaron and back to Vic before his gaze falls to the floor. “Because I love him, Vic. And that’s the only explanation I’ve got for you.” 

“Whatever. Oh just get lost Robert, I can’t deal with you right now.” 

“Vic—"

“I said,” she voice, anger bubbling, "get lost.” 

And with one last worried glance in Aaron’s direction, Robert leaves.

And then it’s just the two of them. Guilt claws up Aaron’s throats, clawing to break free. 

“So, my brother was Red all along?” Victoria asks when the door finally clicks shut behind them. 

“Yeah.”  
  
“And that’s when this—,” she gestures vaguely in front of Aaron. To his red lips and messy hair, “—all started?”  
  
Aaron squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t think now is the best time—”  
  
“Or was it before that?” She asks. “Have you two been at it for years? Sneaking away from family get-togethers and fooling us all? _Huh?_ Oh come on Aaron, you might as well come out with all of it now.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t like that, I swear,” Aaron says. “I’ve hated lying to you, Vic.” 

“I stood up for you! When Ross outed you, I did everything I could to make things easier for you!” She exclaimed. “God, I pushed you towards him! _My own brother!_ I even helped you write that _fucking_ email. And then I asked you all about what happened the night you were supposed to meet, hm, and you lied to me! I covered for you that night, and _God—_ I prayed that someone would turn up because I just wanted you to be happy. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, Aaron!” She pushes her hands into his chest. “You were my best friend in the world and you lied to me!”

Aaron’s vision blurs around the edges, his chest burning where her palms made contact. _Were_ , she says. 

“I’m sorry, Vic. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_.” 

Vic chokes on a laugh, dragging her wrist across her cheek. “I don’t want your apologies, Aaron. I want you to go back in time and not sleep with my _fucking_ brother.”

“Let’s get something straight, yeah?” he says without another breath. He holds his arms out. “I’m not sorry about Robert. I wish I’d told you, I do. I'm sorry I didn’t. Sorry _we_ didn’t. But I’m not sorry for being with him. You don’t get to make me feel wrong for being with someone who loves me. No one does. And I won’t feel sorry for loving him back. Everything I’ve ever done, it’s never been for me. It's been for me Mum, or for Liv, or _you_. But Robert, he was mine. I deserved him.”

If Victoria’s silence is anything to go by, he’s said the wrong thing. But he can’t stop now. 

“You and Adam? You love each other yeah?” Aaron tries, and maybe this isn’t his smartest move either, turning it back on Vic, but it’s all he has to offer right now. “Well so do me and Robert, and that’s the same thing.” 

Victoria sighs, and all but rolls her eyes. “But Adam’s not your brother, Aaron. We made a set of rules when we were X years old, which specifically stated relatives were off-limits. For God sake Aaron, it was one of our golden rules.”

Aaron blink, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“But it doesn’t fucking work that way,” he says. “You don’t choose who you fall in love with. It just happens.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I mean you’ve been so off with me lately. Always cancelling plans and making excuses, but I thought: _okay, let’s give it a few weeks, maybe he’s just having a tough time and he’ll come to me when he’s ready,_ but this whole time you were just choosing my brother over me.” 

There’s this real fight gearing up in her now, coiling like venomous snakes in the tense line of her shoulders. “Maybe you can’t choose who you fall in love with, but you did chose to betray me. To put my brother before _me_. Before _me_ and _my_ feelings.” 

Aaron blinks again, but this time, his vision is completely blurred. “That’s not true,” he emphasises, through the guilt clawing at his throat. “You know that’s not true. I love you, Vic.”

“Then you should have told me!” She shouts—screams, in response. It rises to those tall ceilings and comes back as a tinny echo. “God Aaron, you could’ve at least told me.”

“I’m sorry. It just—it all happened so quickly,” he tries. “And—and then—I tried to stop it. But it was too late, Vic. _I love him._ We love each other.” 

Vic draws a deep, trembling breath. The silence stretches on for several seconds. When she speaks again, her voice is resigned. “He’s going to break your heart, Aaron.” 

And that Aaron’s breath catches in his throat slightly, he almost chokes, brows raising into his hairline, fingers curling deeper. “What?” he says again. It comes out as an absurd puff of laughter. 

“He’ll break you,” she says, so matter-of-fact.  
  
“He won’t,” Aaron says, quick and thin, pulse already pushing against his temples. He can feel the blood in his face draining towards his heart, threatening to burst.  
  
“Yes, he will,” Vic says, half determined, half exhausted. Aaron curls his shoulders in, blinks at the floor and tries to breathe through the crushing hand around his throat. He didn’t expect this. He expected screaming and crying and maybe ever a slap, but not this. 

“You’re wrong,” he whispers. He thinks of their mornings wrapped together, Robert kissing playfully along his neck, laughter and whispers. He thinks of winter sun gleaming down on the stream, and the grit of sand between their clasped fingers as they hunted for fossils. 

He wipes at his face in embarrassment, erasing the few stubborn tears that have managed to escape. 

“I’m not,” Victoria says. “It's what he does, Aaron. He takes what he needs and runs with it. To hell with who gets hurt. I mean, I’ve told you all the stories, haven’t I? Of all the girls, boys too it seems, that he’s left shattered.”  
  
Hot spikes of anger prick through his spine, up the nape of his neck, bringing a warm flush, a burning sensation behind his eyes. “Shut up, Vic.”  
  
“Do you really think you’re the first person, _the first boy_ , he’s taken an interest in like this? Because you’re not. And you won’t be the last, either,” she says, sharp, shaking her head. Aaron flinches a little, and all the breath whooshes out of his chest in one, smooth motion, ribs cracking and collapsing on top of his lungs. Vic watches him, lip bitten between her teeth. “I’m sorry, that was—that was mean.”  
  
_Do you really think you’re the first?_ Aaron feels sick, feels physically ill at the thought of anyone else touching Robert like he has, of anyone else knowing him the way he does, of anyone else being so close. _Do you really think you’re the first?_ He thinks of his name scratched on the cave wall, and comes close to tears when he wonders if any of the names around his belong to someone like him. Wonders if Robert let someone else in like he has with Aaron, wonders if there’s another boy, another girl, out there that’s drawn their names in a heart on the sand, or wrote a whole notepads worth of lyrics about _Robert Bloody Sugden._ _  
_  
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Aaron whispers, after a painfully long silence, his arms wrapped around his chest quivering now. “I’m sorry, Vic. I really am, you have to believe that. But I can’t help who I love. And I love Robert. Whether the feeling is reciprocated or not.”  
  
“Fine,” she says shortly. “Just don’t come crying to me when it all goes up in flames. You’ve been warned.” 

Aaron shakes his head, breathing in sharply. “I tried, you know? I tried to stop it. I didn’t want to fall in love with him. And most of all, I didn’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“Well you’ve failed spectacularly there then, haven’t you?” Vic cuts him off harshly, and there’s an intensity in her stare. “Out of everyone lad you could have, you _had_ to choose my brother? It seems this friendship means much more to one of us than the other, hey.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Aaron says. He hates how strangled he sounds. “We—I didn’t, like, fucking seek him out or anything. It wasn’t planned. It just—everything just happened.” 

“Whatever, Aaron. Just don’t expect to have me around to make you feel better about yourself when the inevitable happens.” 

That's the knockout punch and she knows it. Because after she's said it, after she's completely devastated him, she turns to leaves.

“I love you Vic, to the moon and back,” Aaron tries thickly. “ _And back again_.”

But it’s hopeless. She’s gone. 

—

Aaron struggled to leave his bed the next morning. The February sunlight glaring on his face like an accusation. It urged him to get his ass up and make things right. Eventually, he would have to.

But yesterday was bad, to put it mildly. And now, only a mere twenty-four hours after he was blindsided with happiness, everything has changed. And Aaron is _fucking_ terrified. 

Back then, the lies kept him, _him and Robert,_ safe and they were grateful for it. Aaron was grateful.

The thing about lies, though, is that they fester. They’re wounds hidden beneath dirty bandages, unable to heal until they’re cleaned and allowed to air.

He dragged himself out of the cocoon of his bed eventually, and only when he was pulling on a clean t-shirt did he smell the bacon wafting up the stairs.

He shuffled out of his room and down the hall. The next room door was open, Liv’s bed abandoned as usual. At least some things never change. 

Aaron headed into the kitchen and instantly went weak in the knees.

There was breakfast on the table: eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes with sliced strawberries the way Aaron liked them. Liv was standing at the sink, washing up all the pots she’d used this morning. And yeah, it seems she is more than aware of last night’s drama. She _never_ washes up. 

“Morning,” they said at the same time. Aaron smiled some more.

He exhaled a quiet laugh and rubbed the side of his neck. “This looks really great,” he said rocking back on his heels.

“Good. Eat as much as you can. I think I made too much.”

“Have I ever told you you’re the best little sister in the world?”

“Not nearly enough,” she playfully snaps back, handing him a steaming brew. 

“Well you are,” he says, matter-of-fact. “And I love you.”

“And Robert Sugden.” Is what she says in response. 

And that just about finishes him off, choking on his tea until he’s red in the face. “What?” 

“Oh quit with the dramatics, Aaron,” she says with a wink. “You love him, don’t you?”

“How do you—,” Aaron starts, completely perplexed and purposefully ignoring the question. “How do you even know?”

“I’m your little sister, Aaron,” Liv says, as if that’s enough of an explanation. “I know everything.”

“Now eat up before I give you a proper grilling,” she continues as Aaron’s mouth hangs open. “And then, then you can call him and sort this whole mess out, yeah?” she suggest calmly, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.  
  
He looks up at her, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and lip bitten tightly between his teeth. “Like it’s that easy,” he dismissed her suggestion.  
  
“Life isn’t, Aaron.” 

And at thirteen years old, she’s a whole universe wiser than Aaron ever was. 

—

Once he’s finished with breakfast and done his fair share of cleaning up, he heads back upstairs to retrieve his phone from wherever he’s thrown it in a fit of rage the previous night. 

Once he’s located it, he bravely switches it back on, after a whole twenty hours of ignoring it. The minute it flickers to life, the incessant buzzing begins, a series of texts and missed calls coming through one after the other. He watched it vibrate on his desk, his leg jiggling up and down as the screen keeps lighting up and up with a new message.

His fingers curl around the phone, bringing it closer towards him, his eyes trained on the column of uncovered messages just ready and waiting. His thumb resting on the side of the mobile, stroking the cold metal, teeth dragging in his lower lip.

**_27 missed calls. 12 texts. 5 voicemail messages._ **

Unsurprisingly the majority come from Robert, with the odd one thrown in from Adam. No doubt, _and rightly so_ , fighting his girlfriends corner. 

There’s nothing from Victoria. _Nothing_. Not even a whisper of the daily silly Snapchat Aaron has been receiving for the best part of 5 years. He should’ve been expecting it really, he knows Victoria, knows how stubborn she is, they both are, but it doesn’t lessen the sting any. 

He clicks on Robert’s name, or rather the **_R_ ** coupled with a red heart, and braces himself. 

**[Yesterday, 11:33]** **_I hope you’re okay. Message me when you can._ **

**[Yesterday, 11:34]** **_I love you. Xx_ **

**[Yesterday, 12:00]** **_Vic will calm down eventually, you know? And then we can sort this. It’ll be alright, I promise._ **

**[Yesterday: 13:30]** **_Alright maybe she hasn’t calmed down just yet! She’s just slammed the door in my face so hard it nearly came off the hinges!_ **

**[Yesterday, 17:00]** **_Aaron, it’s been hours now. Come on, just let me know you’re alright. I’m worried. Xx_ **

**[Yesterday, 22:36]** **_Proper fucking worried actually. J_ ** **_ust ring me so I don't worry anymore, I need to know you're safe._ **

**[Yesterday, 23:46]** **_Are you ignoring me? If you don’t want to talk tonight, that’s fine, I get it. But please, PLEASE, let me know you’re okay. I’m driving myself mad with worry. X_ **

**[Today, 03:24]** **_This isn’t funny anymore, Aaron. Just_ **

**[Today, 9:00]** **_Aaron? You awake?_ **

**[Today, 10:37]** **_Hell, are you even alive?_ **

**[Today, 21:57]** **_Fine. Be like that. You need time, space, whatever. But just know that I love you and I’ll be right here when you need me. Xx_ **

**_—_ **

Aaron slips outside with tears blurring his eyes, it’s absolutely freezing, chilled air sweeping up under the cuffs of his tracksuit bottoms and his hoodie the instant the door slips shut behind him, but his head feels clearer already. He has to stand there for a moment to catch his breath and steady himself, vision too blurry to see, but he refuses to let the tears go. Swallowing, he closes his eyes for a moment, then leans himself against the wall of the house.

By the time he opens up a new message, begins to type a reply, his fingers are almost numb from the cold, yet palms clammy, thumbs sluggish and slow as he types.

**_Rob, please come over, I need you._ **

He deletes it.

**_I’m fine, or at least I will be if you come over._ **

Delete.

He hesitates, wiping at a fat tear stuck to the corner of his eye.

**_Cricket Pavillion?_ **

He click delete once more and almost throws his phone. 

**_It’s over Robert. We’re over._**

Is what he opts for in the end. He sends the text off to Robert with bleary eyes and a heavy heart. 

He throws his phone to the ground then, stomping on it till the screen is smashed beyond repair. 

_It might as well be my heart_ , he thinks. 

—

The next two weeks pass by in a blur of tears and heartache. The days move sluggishly, some excruciatingly slow. The weather was bleak, clouds having lingered all week, dark and dwelling, and that only heightened his desire to stay in bed all day, every day. 

_Two weeks_ , he thinks, and he looks beside him, at the football shirt hanging over the back of his desk chair. _Fourteen day_ s. 

The blue and white striped shirt has been hanging on the back of the chair for months now, acting as a permanent reminder that Robert is — _was_ — his. He should probably post it through the Sugden’s door one day, or leave it in the college gym, some place Robert can find it on his own so they can avoid the awkward and stilled conversation with any one of the Sugden Siblings.

But he doesn’t.

He just lets it swing there until even mere the sight of makes his heart aches, until he realises, very slowly and with a sinking heart, that the only scent that will comfort him right now is Robert’s; that deep, musky, slightly spicy scent that’s been comforting Aaron for months now.

He falls onto the bed clutching the jumper, because he feels like he should, because he feels like he’s supposed to. He’s never missed anyone, wanted someone, this strongly before, and the way he wants Robert right now, well it’s terrifying. But he can’t have him, he knows that. He needs to figure this out, all of it, but right now he needs to sleep, so that’s what he does, holding Robert’s jumper to his chest and wishing that he could stop missing the person _he_ pushed away. 

_Because if Aaron’s good at anything, it’s torturing himself._

So it stays. The shirt stays and so does the whole in Aaron’s heart. Just like the leather jacket in the wardrobe, or the stale chocolate cake sitting in the kitchen, or the Best of Taylor Swift CD that’s so worn down it looks vintage. 

He falls into another fitful sleep eventually. 

Fourteen fitful nights without Robert, what’s another one, hey? 

—

It’s on the fifteenth day that Aaron voluntary leaves his house. It turns out to be a mistake considering the morning brings thunder and a thrashing cold snap of rain, sending all those red—dewy leaves gurgling down streets and drains in thick masses, melting into clumps all over the village. Aaron’s racing back through it with his jacket over his head, trousers almost soaked through with the unfortunate amount of puddles he’s stepped in. Once he’s safely under the cover of his house and setting a much slower pace towards his bedroom, he plucks his phone from his damp pocket and opens an unread text from Victoria.

His heart hammers away as he pushed through his bedroom door, willing his eyes to focus on the words splayed in front of him. 

**1hr ago: Robert’s leaving. I need your help. X**

It reads, but before he has time to process the message, what it means, what that **X** on the end means, he sees her.

_Victoria._

She’s sat at his desk, casual as anything, as if she hasn’t just scared Aaron half to death. 

“Hi,” Aaron says, voice tentative. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Victoria says, and Aaron is surprised at the calmness, the stillness, the familiarity of her voice. He finds the slightest comfort in it all. Your Mum let me up. So, hi.”

“You alright?” Aaron asks. 

“Are you still in love with him?” _Oh._

“Am I what?” Aaron stutters, completely caught off guard.

“It’s a simple question, Aaron. Are you still in love with him?”

“Who?” He replies dumbly.

“Who do you think? Bob the Bloody Builder,” she retorts, slight smirk pulling at her mouth. “Robert, you idiot.”

“Vic, can we not—”

“No excuses, Aaron. Just answer me.”

Aaron feels as if it’s a trick question, so he blinks, his fists clenched against the nervous feeling that’s swimming in his fingers. “What do you want me to say, Vic?”

“The truth, maybe,” Vic sighs, shaking her head. “There’s no right or wrong answer here Aaron. I just need to know.”

“Alright,” Aaron says slowly, breath catching, and he doesn’t even think about it before saying, “then no, —uh—no I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Vic repeats, her voice flat _. “Really?”_

“Yeah, really,” Aaron says, and he feels like it should be the truth, but of course it’s fucking not. In his mouth, it feels heavy on his tongue, like something weighing him down. He tries not to think too much about it, because it’s been two weeks since he last saw Robert, since he destroyed a lifelong friendship with Victoria. There’s no room for whatever he feels — felt — for Robert, so Aaron continues, testing a small, false smile. “Vic, I’m serious. I’ll let you know if I change my mind, alright?”

Vic’s silent for a moment before she sighs loudly, and Aaron wonders when she started doing that so much. But he says nothing as Vic wipes a hand over her face, turning towards Aaron with a frown. “You forget how well I know you, Aaron Dingle.” 

“What does it matter anyway?” He questions. “I’ve ruined everything, Vic. There’s no going back now. Not with him. Not with you.”

“You're only human, Aaron. You make mistakes, we all do.” And that, Aaron can agree with. 

“Some of us make too many mistakes, though.”

“Then stop,” Vic says. “Stop making mistakes. Giving up is a mistake. Start by not doing that.”

“I haven’t given up, not completely,” he answers, some honesty finally seeping through. “How can I?” 

“But you’re preparing yourself for the worst possible outcome, which is almost the exact same thing,” Vic argues.

“I think the worst possible outcome has already happened, Vic,” he says, that same sad smile trying to crack his face. “You hate me, _hate us._ ” 

“No, I don’t! I just want to knock your bloody heads together! Robert has told me everything,” she says, pauses, hesitant, before she takes his hand and squeezes gently. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted—“ 

“No,” Aaron cuts her off. “That was—was completely justified. I’m the one whose sorry.”

“Will you just shut up for one minute and let me say something?” Vic says. “ _Please_.”

Aaron nods. 

“It’s clear now that you two are meant for each other. I know both you and Robert better than you know yourselves. And you’re perfect for each other, alright?”

“You really think that?”

“I know so. _I’m a romantic Aaron, I know this stuff_. I’m not about to come between true love,” she says. _True love_ , Aaron thinks. _Shit_. “But he’s leaving, Aaron. He’s packed his bags and he’s going. And I’m terrified that if he goes, he’ll never come back. Now there’s only one person who can stop him, we both know that. Please, Aaron, I don’t want him to go.”

“Where’s he going?”

“I don’t know,” she answers, and Aaron knows that’s the truth. “He wouldn’t tell me. I just caught him packing his bags this morning.” 

_(Robert hadn’t managed to hide his big quite in time when Vic bursted into his room that morning._

_“I’m going away,” he says cutting her off, “I’m just. I need to leave. For a bit.”_

_“Why?” she asks slowly, “Rob, has something else—“_

_“I just. I just need some space, is all.”_

_“Where’re you—“_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I don’t know,” Robert says, laugh shaky and scared, maybe, just a little, because it’s never been like this — life — so heart—staggeringly overwhelming, “I don’t know. I’m just gonna go. Tomorrow, probably.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Victoria silent for a long moment._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks, and Robert nearly nods his head, vision almost blurring with how much he’s fucking feeling, how much he fucking needs someone._

 _Someone he can’t have._ _  
_ _  
_ _“No,” he chokes out, “no. I just need to do this, y’know?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Why?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Because he’s everywhere, Robert thinks, I can’t fucking shake him here._ _  
_ _  
_ _He bites his lip instead. There’s only been a handful of times in his life where he’s dodged a question from his sister, fewer still that he’s dodged successfully. This is one of them._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Love you,” he says, “hold down the fort while I’m gone, yeah?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Rob—"_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Don’t,” Robert bites out, before softening, “please, Vic. Just don’t.”_

 _“Do you think this is what Aaron wants? For you to just up and leave like this? Do you?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _He closes his eyes, just to escape this for a moment. “Aaron’s made it pretty clear how he feels,” he says, voice strained. “Just drop it, Vic.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Victoria is halted, nervous when she speaks._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Okay. I love you too, y’know?” She says, a little weary, tired, and it makes Robert want to slam his head against the wall, because he’s doing it again, letting people down. “I’m always here for you, y’know, no matter what's gone on before. Call me when you get to wherever you end up.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _And Robert isn’t even sure where that might be, wherever a couple hundred quid can get him, and the burning desire to get away from this awfully small place, just for a bit, will take him. But when a village shrinks down to just one, Robert thinks it’s about time to leave. If Aaron’s going to be around every street corner, then Robert’s going to have to find some new streets.)_

“I’m not sure my words will mean anything to him anymore.”

“Look, if nothing else, just go say goodbye. That’s all I’m asking, I think you owe it to each other — to yourselves — to say goodbye, don’t you? You both deserve that.”

The words glance off him, just a pebble skimming across surface water. “He won’t care,” he said, certainty making him almost arrogant. Vic crosseS her arms and he’s reminded — not for the first time — how stubbornness runs through every Sugden like Blackpool through a stick of rock.

“You’re wrong,” she replied, fierce and determined. “And you know it.” And here comes to softness, the gentle encouragement which felt like fingers through his hair. He takes a deep breath, wonders if they’ll ever be a time Vic isn’t the voice of reason he so often needs. 

“What if I don’t want to say goodbye though, Vic?”

And she knows exactly what he’s saying. He hears a soft Oh, Aaron, and then: 

“Then don’t,” she says, as if it could ever be that simple. “If you love him like I think you do, then fight for him. If he loves you like he says he does, then fight for him. If you love me like I know you do, then fight for him.”

“Jesus,” Aaron says with a short, surprised laugh. He feels exposed all of a sudden but this is Victoria, and she’s still his best friend, no matter what, but she’s _right._ “You’re a wise one, you know that?”

“Hm. It’s been said.”

—

He doesn’t make his decision for well over an hour. He puts his shoes on, takes them off, on again, off again. Jacket; on, off, on again, off again. He opens up his laptop up, logs onto his email account for the first time in weeks, stifles through each and every exchange between himself and Red. There’s one in particular he goes over again and again. 

_Dear A,_

_Chin up. Things will come together when they’re supposed to. Things will work themselves out the way that they’re meant to. Life is terrifying and its unfair, and the world can be a pretty damn scary place, but one day things will change. One day you’ll meet someone who protects you from all that. Some who has you looking towards the future, not back to the past. Someone who puts tears in your eyes for all the right reasons. Someone that shows you a whole new, brilliant world._

_I know that because it’s already happened to me._

_I’ve already found my someone._

_It’s you._

_I promise it’ll get better, for both of us._

_Love,_

_Red._

And fuck, Aaron owes it to the both of them to at least try. 

And so the shoes and jacket go back on, and this time they stay on. 

—

He knocks on Robert’s bedroom door multiple times, but there’s no answer. He tries again. Still, no answer. He’s about to just open the door himself and walk right in, to hell with the consequences, when—

“Aaron?” Robert questions, a look that Aaron can’t quite place crossing his features. 

And Aaron just stares up at him. In the low light, he can see the circles under Robert’s eyes, the tightness of his face, the way his chest tremors. The guilt claws its way up Aaron’s throat, his voice seemingly being snatched away with it.  
  
“Are you coming in or not?” Robert says, his voice tight, controlled as he holds the door open for Aaron, who’s suddenly motionless.   
  
“Uh—yeah,” Aaron says, adds a little shrug to defy the press of anxiety cracking at his ribcage.  
  
He steps inside on unsteady legs, with a heart just as precarious. Once the door clicks shut behind him Robert flicks the lights on, illuminating the room in an off—orange glow. The exhaustion hits Aaron like a fucking truck then, and the look in Robert’s eyes hurts him somewhere deep in his chest, right at his core.

Aaron wonders what he must look like to Robert; eyes red-rimmed and raw from all the crying he’s done in the last two weeks. Lips and nails the brutal attack of all the guilt-infused nerves.  
  
But then Aaron has to admit Robert doesn’t look much better himself. He hadn’t known what to expect from the other man, but it sure wasn’t this — there are bags under his eyes that put Aaron’s own to shame, and a hollowness — a sadness — in his eyes.

“Alright?” Aaron questions pathetically.

“Yeah.”

“What are you up to?” Aaron asks for lack of anything relevant to say. 

“Packing.” Robert answers. Short. Cold. _Blunt._ Aaron can hardly blame him, really. 

“Yeah I can quite clearly see that,” Aaron says, he’s trying to keep that angry weaver from his voice but it’s there. “Vics told me. You’re leaving. Why?” 

Robert shrugs, and it’s so fucking infuriating, the way he blinks innocently and goes back to typing on his phone. Aaron inhales and exhales slowly, jaw clenched. He can barely find it in himself to be angry. Mostly, he just feels defeated, and crushed, and on the verge of crying as he watches Robert tap away, carefully silent and not making eye contact.

“Robert,” Aaron grits out. He doesn’t look up, and Robert slams his phone down on his desk, breathing in sharply, not missing Aaron’s flinch. “Fine. You know what, fine.” 

Robert moves across the room, hauls his bag up onto the bed and starts to shove his neatly folded clothes inside, scoops up his phone charger and favourite books from the bedside table, throws it all inside messily, tears looking like their threatening to spill when the zip gets stuck and won’t budge, and he tugs at it harshly. There’s anger and hurt and upset coming off him in waves and it makes Aaron shiver. He hates this. 

“Where are you going?” Aaron says suddenly, sitting up and watching Robert make a mess, a quiet look of alarm flickering over his features. 

“Away.” 

_“Where?”_

“I don’t know. Wherever you’re not.” 

“Robert—” Aaron says, pleads. Robert shakes his head and rounds the bed, but Aaron is there, springing up and blocking the doorway, hands behind his back and gripping the handle. “Robert, please.” 

“Why are you here, Aaron?” Robert asks, and Aaron shivers against the coldness in his voice. 

“Why do you think?”

“I thought you said you wanted nothing more to do with me? We’re over, remember?”  
  
“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” Aaron tries, aware it’s futile. He holds his breath against the rejection he’s expecting.  
  
Robert stares at him, unblinking, for a long moment. And Aaron has to look away, before the first tear rolls and the next hot-faced apology trails miserably from his lips.  
  
“For which part, Aaron? For ignoring my every message and call for two week? Or for ending things with one text? Or how about letting me believe what we have — had — was nothing?” Robert pushes indignantly.  
  
He was angry, that was abundantly clear to Aaron now — his face was flushed an awful red, his expression hardened.  
  
“I didn’t mean”—”

“No, don’t,” Robert cuts in, a hand up in Aaron’s face to stop him. “I’ve had two weeks of nothing, absolutely nothing, Aaron. Fourteen days of sitting alone at that bloody pavillion worrying about you, leaving you message after message, wondering how the hell I can fix this,” and yeah, Robert is fuming now, Aaron’s sure of that. “But you’ve given me nothing. She’s your best friend, my sister, and we both love her, I get that. But cutting me off and disappearing off the grid isn’t okay. It won’t ever be okay, Aaron. I’ve been fucking terrified.”  
  
Aaron pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands at Robert’s words, leaving only the tips of his fingers peeking out. He uses them to pull at loose threads, fidgeting.  
  
Eventually, Aaron takes a breath, hot tears welling in his eyes at an alarming rate — before his mind can even catch up with him.

“I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean to—to worry you or—or anything,” he tries, and the tears spring back into Aaron's eyes like old friends. “God Robert, you have no idea how sorry I am.”

Robert sighs, long and drawn out, irritated for sure. He shakes his head and tosses Aaron’s apologies aside. “No, you’re right, I don’t. I have no idea about anything anymore, Aaron. What you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. If you ever even wanted this in the first place.”

“I do — I do want you, this, _us_ , but—” It’s strangled, sounds the way he imagines a broken violin might sound, a string too taught. It’s fear he recognises in his voice and it overwhelms him like a current, dragging him away from the place he wants to be. From the words he’s so desperate to speak.  
  
“But what, Aaron?” Robert grits out, patience seemingly wearing thin.  
  
“I didn’t want to lose Victoria, either.” 

“So it was me or her. That simple?”

“No!” Aaron exclaims. “None of this has been simple Robert, but I’ve learnt that love isn’t. It isn’t simple, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

“It’s a shame it’s taken you fourteen whole days to realise that, isn’t it?”

Aaron feels the thickness growing in his throat, and he blinks back tears, breathing in sharply through his nose. “Robert—”

Robert shakes his head, cutting him off. “You were the love of my life.”

“And you’re _still_ the love of mine,” Aaron says, and he’s surprised at how easily the words come out, how true they are. He’s still standing a few feet away from Robert, so he closes the distance until they’re standing face to face. “I know what I said, Robert, and I know I’ve been an absolute twat, but you are the love of my bloody life, and I’m so sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you.”

“You just left me alone Aaron. With nothing more than a blunt text message. And you know what? It’s been so hard. So, _so_ hard. Because you left me to deal with everything on my own. Vic’s my sister Aaron, I fucking adore her and it’s killing me to know we hurt her, but _fuck_ , I’ve been the one who has had to try and pick up the pieces. The pieces of her heart and mine too. All the while you’ve been nowhere to be _fucking_ seen.”

“But I’m here now,” Aaron reasons. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Robert, please. Please don’t go.” 

“Why?” Robert exhales harshly. “Why should I stay? Tell me, Aaron.” 

Aaron looks up at him, opens his mouth, attempts to say something, _anything,_ then closes it again. Nothing comes, and Robert scrunches his eyes closed, pulls his lips into his mouth and tilts his head away, as if he’s trying to fight the misty glaze that’s begin to form in each eye. He’s breaking Aaron’s fucking heart and it’s all he can do to reach out his hand slowly, but he doesn’t get the chance to knot their fingers together like planned, not before Robert wrenches his own hand away.

“Don’t,” he spits, wet and broken. “Unless you want to talk, to explain, you aren’t touching me. I won’t let you fucking coax me into bed, Aaron.”

“That’s not what I—” Aaron inhales, sharp and with a flinch of his chest, eyes wild with panic. “Is that what you really think of me?”

“Who fucking care what I think,” Robert laughs humorously. “Because you’ve made your feelings, or lack of, towards me pretty damn. You don’t care about me, and you don’t need me, so drop the act, will you?”

“Stop being so bloody tough, Robert,” Aaron shoves him gently, but then tries to pull him back in, and Robert is done, he’s had enough, and he’s pushing past him and wrenching the door open, blood boiling. Aaron’s hand wraps around his arm. “You know that isn’t true. You know.”

“Oh just fuck off, Aaron.” He tugs himself out of Aaron’s hold, hiccuping a soft cry that he can’t trap quick enough, footy falling closed again. 

_“I love you.”_

Robert lets out a long breath, puts his up and covers his face, digs his palms so harshly into his eyes Aaron almost reaches out for him, almost circles his wrists and presses his hands over his heart instead, almost says: _take it, it’s yours, don’t you see it belongs to you?_

“No you don’t, Aaron,” Robert says, muffled behind his hands. Aaron pulls away from him, recoils, because each word is a nail in the coffin, in his chest, pinpricks in his eyes that burst the fine film keeping his tears in. 

“How can you say that?” Aaron whispers, choked and lost under the waves crashing, twin pearls sliding along his cheeks and racing towards his jaw, hovering there until they fall and dot his jumper. “How can you say that, after everything?” 

“ _Because of everything_ ,” Robert says, chest heaving with it as he turns his face, fingers curling into loose fists against his cheek. Aaron shakes his head, shakes it so much that his brain rattles. “After everything we’ve been through Aaron, all those months we spent entirely wrapped up in each other and you just dropped me like that when things got tough? That isn’t love.” 

“I love you,” Aaron repeats, “and you love me.” He sounds defiant yet so small. 

“No,” Robert says. Aaron grits his teeth.

“Liar,” he breathes. Robert’s reaction is immediate, almost a flinch, a strong, flickering blink. He stares, open-mouthed, for so long, and Aaron is crying silently now, tiny tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and drooping along his cheeks. 

“Fine. If you don’t love me, why are you leaving?” Aaron says, wrecked and broken, voice strained from his crying. “If you don’t love me, why can’t you stand to be in the same village as me? If you don’t love me, why did you let me into the things you keep private from everyone else? Why is my name etched on the wall at the beach? Why did you let me steal your favourite football shirt? If you don’t love me, why did you _fucking_ tell me that you do?” Aaron cries miserably, and everything around him comes crashing down.

Robert stares at him, blinking slowly as Aaron speaks, voice raising louder and louder, rough and shaking like it’s being torn from his throat, broken apart by hurting sobs and everything else that’s pouring out of him. It just hurts, it hurts so much, and the next words are visceral and vicious and so, so broken.

“If you didn’t love me, Robert, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

And Robert’s face is crumpling, a mix of fear and hurt and what Aaron hates to think is regret, looking caught out and afraid. He still hasn’t said anything, tears misting his eyes.

“Rob, please,” Aaron sobs. “Please, talk to me. I can’t—. I love you _so much_ and I know you love me too and I just want this to be okay. I just want us to be okay. _Please_ just–”

“We were just kidding ourselves, Aaron,” Robert says, his expression turns pinched, pained, and he shakes his head again. “We knew all along that this — us — would never, _could never,_ work. We _knew_ that.”

“We can work it out,” Aaron says weakly, curling in on himself when Robert jaw clenches, steely and harsh. “Me and you, we can work anything out.” 

“Don’t be so naive,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like him at all, blank and void of anything, the words curling around his tongue cold and twisted. Aaron’s mouth parts. It feels like the moment right before a bomb goes off, all sound sucked away into a huge vacuum of silence before it bursts out again, destroying everything in its path. 

“ _Naive_?” Aaron explodes, seething, the word hissing through his teeth as he sits forward. There’s heat searing around his veins, painful and sharp, and it’s tearing through the sadness, blending it with an anger so fierce that he can hardly think. He feels like a child, he feels stupid, and embarrassed. 

“You said it yourself,” Robert says, with that same drawled, awfully sad tone. “You said this — us — you said it was over. You said it had to be over. That was you. Not me. _You_.”

“That was two weeks ago,” Aaron grits out, fingers curling into his palms. “Two weeks ago when everything was such a bloody mess. When Victoria had just caught us and the world had just been pulled out from under my feet. But Vic, _she’s alright, Rob._ We had a chat today and sure, things are still rocky, and it’ll take some time, but she’s okay with this—us.” 

“I want you to go,” is all Robert has to say in return, staring resolutely at the packed bag now sitting on his bed.

Aaron twitches, reaching for him. “Rob—“

“Please,” Robert interrupts. He tilts his head away, face crumpling. “Please, Aaron.” And Aaron knows Robert starts to cry then, even though he isn’t looking at him. He can hear the shaking in Robert’s chest, the quick breaths that he tries to smother. 

His chest starts to tighten, and when he moves closer, Robert shies away, entire face screwed up miserably.

“Robert!” Aaron calls, distant and broken. “Please. Don’t do this.” 

“It’s already done Aaron,” Robert replies, and there’s this stillness, this acceptance in his voice that just rips through Aaron’s entire body. “ _We’re done_.”

“You don’t mean that.”

_“I do.”_

And with those two little words, all the fight leaves Aaron’s body. 

“ _Fine_.” Aaron draws in a quick breath. “I’m not going to beg you to stay if you don’t want to.” 

“Great.” Robert says coldly. “You can let yourself out, can’t you?”

When Aaron turns and walks away, he lets that very last piece of his heart fall to the floor and shatter like precious china. 

—

It isn’t that late when he stumbles back home. The lights are still on downstairs, bleary, smudged yellow flashes of colour splaying over the laced curtains inside. He hears his mum laugh, beneath the television, sees shadows of movement inside, and he ducks his head, tears welling up in his eyes as he slips up the stairs as quietly as possible. 

He feels entirely empty and desolate when he pushes his door open, staring into the emptiness. It’s dark, and Aaron doesn’t turn on his lamp, just dumps his hoodie in the corner and wipes roughly at his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, crouches into a little ball in the corner of the room because he can’t even fucking stand up. 

He lets out a quiet cry, lips bitten harshly into his mouth as he wills himself to stay quiet. His eyes feel swollen and wrecked already, aching from how much he’s crying, how tightly he’s squeezing them shut. That ache settles in his forehead too, a heavy weight that runs down the bridge of his nose and along the tops of his cheeks, red and irritated. The more he dwells on everything, the more stupid he feels. He doesn't know what he expected to happen, Robert to forgive him? 

God, Robert was right, he has been so naive. 

He’s too lost in his own thoughts to register Liv’s soft footsteps outside his door, It’s not until he sees her shadow splay itself on to the shadows cast on his wall, illuminated and backlit from the light of the hallway, that he remembers to hold his breath, choking on a half—formed sob, trembling.

“Aaron?”

She stands there for a few minutes, and Aaron is helpless to hold in quiet sniffles, eyes refusing to stop overflowing with muddled, sticky pearls. Liv lets out a quiet sigh, then there’s the movement of his door swinging open, Liv’s worried face peering from the other side. 

It’s silent for a long time, but Aaron can't hold his breath, his tears, any longer. And before he knows it, he’s sniffing again, crying softly.

“Aaron,” she says, with quiet alarm, shutting the door closed behind her when he gets louder, sobs muffled into his damp jumper. “Hey, hey. Shit, what’s going on? Are you alright?” 

Her hands clasp his shoulders gently, tipping his face up slightly, and he dreads it, facing her, dreads the way her face falls, eyes brimmed with concern and anxiety. He knows how this must look, how pathetic he must seem right now, with his face all swollen and snotty, curled around himself uselessly. 

“Did—did something happen with Robert?” she asks softly. Aaron nods once, because that’s all he can do, he doesn’t even bother to question how she knows, Liv always _knows_. And then Liv is there, closer, a soothing hand in his hair. “Oh, Aaron. Come on, you’re alright. You’re okay. Shh.” 

Her hair is wet, and it dusts over his hot cheeks. He leans into her to hide his face, and he’s so embarrassed, so mortified that he’s acting this way in front of his younger sister. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? But he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“I’ve ruined every—everything Liv,” he hiccups through his tears. “And now, he’s gone, he’s—he’s going and there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.” 

“Oh Aaron,” she sighs softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I love him,” he manages to choke out, voice restricting around that four letter word. “I love him so much. And I’ve lost him. For good.” 

—

He must fall asleep eventually, because the next thing he knows, he’s peeling himself off the floor to move and to sit at his desk. He opens up his laptop, letting the bright light burn his tired eyes.

The only time he moves is to grab a tissue for his wet eyes, or another beer from his desk to numb everything when the pain in his chest becomes unbearable. Everything stings like he’s pressing fire to his skin, but he cries and drinks and cries until it all burns away.

Eventually, everything goes numb. His mind finds somewhere deeper than silence, finds another layer to the world around him and his thoughts that he never knew existed. 

When his Mum knocks on his door, he hasn’t even noticed that the sun has risen.

When he hears the soft creak of his door being opened slowly, he jumps into bed and pretends to be asleep, his eyes feeling as heavy as his chest. The door clicks shut, Chas’ feet pad across the carpet, and then there’s a dull thump, a cup of tea being placed on his bedside table, Aaron assumes. And then a flutter of pages, something light being placed beside him, but Aaron can feel the weight of it already. It’s crushing. 

He peels his eyes open as he hears his Mum pad back down the stairs and he knows, he just knows. 

He picks the newly placed envelope up from his desk, sees the **_A,_ ** sprawled across the front and just fucking sobs as he crawls the thing open. 

_Aaron_ , the letter starts, and the precise slant of the word sends a chill down Aaron's spine.

_I’m not sure why I’m writing this really. I thought I said everything I need to last night, but it turns out I barely even scratched the surface, really._

Another sigh escapes his lips, a few gentle, muffled sniffles. It goes quiet as Aaron continues to read.

_I’m so angry. God, Aaron, I’m still so angry. But that’s only because I care for you so damn much. I care for you and I love you and I hate myself for it but I can’t bloody stop. And that’s why I’m going, because I can’t stand to see you every day and not be able to call you mine._

_I’ll be back one day, I hope. I suppose I’ll have to come back to sit my exams anyway. But not yet, not for a while._

_If you ever think about me, I hope it's not all bad. I hope you manage to think about all the good times, too. The day at the beach, the nights spent at the cricket pavillion,_ _winter walks and the star—gazing. The stolen kisses and the cinema trips. The whispered promises and the loud I love you’s. The songs. Our song._

_I hope you remember it all. I know I will, forever._

_I wish there was another life, another universe, a version of us that got a chance. But maybe we were always destined to end up like this, although I don't really believe that._

_I just hate that we're another one of those stories, you know the ones — unrequited love, teen tearaways, madly in love only to be torn apart by life and circumstances and other difficult things. I never thought we'd be the couple that gave up, but you made the decision for both of us, and I guess one day I'm going to have to accept that._

_I'm probably never going to let you go for good. I'm sorry, and I hope that the stain of me — us — past doesn't mar your shiny new future too much. Because that’s what you’ll have Aaron, a shiny future. Whether that’s as Britain's coolest indie band or Yorkshire baddest mechanic. Just know that I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what._

_I just miss you. I miss you so bloody much, and I hate it, and I want to stop missing you but I don't;’t see that happening any time soon._

_Please, please be happy. Whatever you do, wherever you go, whoever you're with — be happy, my love. If you are, then maybe one day I can get over my own heart being destroyed in the process._

_Oh, and for the love of God, sort things out with Victoria — you two are the glue that holds the village together. Work it out. For me._

_Love you, always._

_Red. Xx_

And that’s it. That’s fucking it. There's nowhere for Aaron to go from here, no bedroom door to knock on, no address to send a reply to. Nothing

Nothing but Robert's last I love you, burning in Aaron's grip.

Aaron paws at his face, trying to wipe his tears, lessen his puffy eyes somehow. 

He scrambles, crawls backwards across the room until his back is pressed against the wall. He slides down it and stretches his hand under the bed until he hits what he’s looking for. 

His sobs barely make a sound now, just a series of half—choked on breaths which he struggled to draw in or push out. His lungs burn, his bottom lip ripped smooth and bloody as he tears the surface flesh back with his teeth.

He gets both his hands onto the box, lifting up the lid to and being struck with months worth of memories. 

He doesn’t know where they went wrong, at what point they overstepped into something they could never come back from, could never untangle themselves from easily. When the quiet settles, all he can do is think, over think, rake through each touch and look and memory he has, searching for the place that broke them apart and pulled them together at the same time, searching for the place that left them the way they are now. 

He knows he has no right to be this upset, he knows that, he’s the one who ended things after all, but his memories are shifting into nothing, into everything, and it's the kind of feeling that consumes him, the kind of thing that branches out from his spine and into everything. 

The box is full of _things_. Grainy pictures of him and Robert laying on a frosty shoreline, side by side, the cold blue waves crashing over their booted feet. (Aaron remembers the day as the one he first realised that he could love this boy forever.)

A coin from the day him and Robert kissing for the first time, cautious and petrified, yet soft and gentle and growing desperate, mouths tasting like black coffee and fear. (Suddenly, forever doesn't seem like long enough.)

A blanket from the cricket pavilion, him and Robert there night after night, mapping out each other's bodies with delicate fingers, curious tongues, their breathing blurring out into one steady sound. (He could have died then, he was so happy.)

And then, and then it’s a little post-it note Robert had left Aaron the morning before Victoria had come home early to find Robert and Aaron tangled together, Aaron perched on the kitchen counter—top and Robert between his legs, like they belonged there, looking beautiful and _right_ , fitting together perfectly. Her face is a blind spot in Aaron's mind now, but he remembers how Robert had glanced up, blinking and looking fearful, yet hopeful above everything else.

Aaron almost feels like the last few weeks have been moving too fast, like he can't keep up. Everyone's standing just out of his reach, speeding up and out of sight before he can tell them to wait, to just wait for him. He's always loved easily; Vic, Liv, his Mum, Adam and Holly, but never like this, never so much that he let it tear him apart. 

And he is. He’s torn apart. 

He can’t lose Robert. 

He can’t. 

_He won’t._

—

**[To Vic, 10:32]** **_What time is Rob’s train?_ **

**[From Vic, 10:33] _F_** **_inally! 11. To London. Hurry up!! And don’t come home without him — I’m relying on you Dingle!!! X_ **

**_—_ **

He’s running, he feels his heart thudding over and over again in his head and he can’t breathe. He can’t bloody breathe because he’s been running so far at and Robert would be doubled over with laughter if he could see Aaron right now. But Aaron would take that in this moment. In fact he’d run forever if it meant he got to hear Robert laughing again.

He’s got a hand wiping over his forehead, he’s so out of breath he’s dizzy with it but he wills himself to focus as he looks up at the board to locate which platform Robert will be on. He runs up the stairs, skips a couple of steps and nearly knocks a handful of people over in the process but he doesn’t quite have it in him to care. 

He checks his watch. _Five minutes_. He can hear the ticking in his mind, each second mocking him, haunting him, as he makes his back down the stairs on the opposing side. Along with the mental clock, he can hear Victoria’s words echoing in his mind _. If you love him like I think you do, then fight for him. If he loves you like he says he does, then fight for him. If you love me like I know you do, then fight for him._ He hears it all, over and over again. Those words have been ringing around Aaron’s brain on a loop all day, static and terrifyingly loud. He's so angry with himself, all the sudden, but it just spurs him on further.

The words push him onto the platform, push him to keep _running, running, running._ Eyes wild and searching; he’s scared to blink, to turn his eyes down, one mere second and he could miss Robert. And God, it’s hard. It’s hard because suddenly everyone in the station resembles Robert Bloody Sugden. Everyone seems to be wearing a leather jacket, despite the cold February temperatures. And to make it worse, there’s a mass of talk people with stiking, wild, blonde hair. 

So basically, he’s screwed.  
  
“Robert!” He shouts, but it’s hopeless, the name leaving his lips a faint whisper, getting lost amongst the hustle of the busy Leeds station. God, did Robert really have to do this at peak time on a Saturday?

He’s making his way down the platform, nearing the edge and about to do a double check that he actually read the number correctly, when he sees him. 

And suddenly he can’t see anything else.

_Just Robert_.

Robert with a large bag swung over his shoulder. 

Robert with a crease in his brow.

_Robert with a train ticket in hand._

For a second, the floor seems to tip and he loses his balance, stumbling forwards, gravity pulling him in the direction of that achingly familiar face.  
  
“Robert,” he half—yells, though his voice is so weak and hoarse that it comes out as more of a croak. Still, it seems to do the trick, because Robert spins on his heels, eyes meeting Aaron’s own before he can even blink. 

“Aaron?” Robert voices, looks stunned and terrified all at once. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Uh—I’m not sure, really,” Aaron blurts out, honestly. “I read your letter. I read it and I knew I had to come. I had to _try_.”

“God, Aaron,” Robert sighs, defeated. “ _I’m_ trying. I’m trying so hard. Trying to move on, to fucking forget you but how can I when you keep turning up everywhere I go.” 

“Stop tryin, then. _Please_ ? I love you,” Aaron says, begs almost. His voice cracks as he speaks, eyes stinging. “I love you so much. And I know I hurt you. But I can fix this. _We_ can fix' this, can’t we?” Robert’s still shaking his head slowly. “ _Please_.”

And maybe he should’ve rehearsed the actual words he wanted to say. But as it is, he can only speak from his heart. So he continues: "I'm sorry I ran when things got tough. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve stuck by you and—and explained things to Vic, with some maturity or whatever. But I’m a coward, Robert. _I am_. I’m a coward and I’m selfish and I just wanted both of you; my best friend and my favourite person in the world. And I know now that I can— _I could’ve_ — had that if I’d of just handled the whole situation better. It’s not much of an excuse, I know, but I just needed time. I needed to get my head in order and I have now and I _can’t_ lose you, Robert.”

“Aaron—,” Robert starts, and there’s tears in his eyes that match Aaron’s own. “You haven’t lost me, _you idiot._ ” 

“I don’t know what the future looks like, Robert, all I know is that I want to spend it with you. And I’m scared, I’m scared of just about bloody everything, but with you by my side, I’d be fearless. Life doesn’t always go the way we want, the way we plan, or the way we expect, but I want to figure it all out with you. Because, God—I love you. I love you _. I love you._ "

“You really think that? You really see me in your future? _Forever_?” Robert questions, and Aaron just absolutely hates that he planted those insecurities there. 

“I've genuinely never considered the future,” Aaron says, finally, his voice slow and calculated, land he’s just saying the words as they come into his head. “Especially a future concerning, you know, us. Because I always expected you'd find bigger and better things and move on and we wouldn’t even ever have to tell Vic because you’d be gone,” he admits. “But I know now, I know how wrong I was to think that, because I know you, Robert. And I want you in my everyday”

_(And for the first time Aaron realises, that thinking about the future isn’t scary. Rather, it’s thrilling. There’s no point in life if you’re just drifting through it, right? There’s no point if you’re not doing what you want, with who you want, doing what makes your bones feel like they’re nothing but stardust and things that float.)_

Robert blinks at him owlishly before he nods once. “I know,” he murmurs and then bites his bottom lip, staring down at Aaron through his eyelashes. “And I know you too, Aaron. But God, I was really mad at you.”

Aaron opens his mouth to reply but then falters before repeating, “Was?” a bit too hopefully.

The quiet that follows is heavy, weighing on Aaron, trapping him. But then the smallest hint of a smile sparks across Robert’s face and Aaron feels something else, something new, for the first time in weeks. 

Hope, like a flower after rain, opens and blooms and takes root in Aaron's chest. 

“Was,” Robert confirms, still staring up at him. And just like that, like the natural flow and ebb of a wave, building up, curling into itself, breaking on the shore and fizzling away, every one of Aaron’s worries, fears, disappear into the stretch of Robert’s smile. “It’s—yeah, you hurt me, ignored me when I needed you the most, but I guess I understand why you did it. I guess I understand you.”

In reply, Aaron takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I was still a coward though.”

“Bravery is a hard thing to come by,” Robert mumbles. “But you were scared Aaron, I know what that feels like.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. _Me too_.” Robert exhales shakily and pulls back, his eyes opening. Aaron is still bracing himself for the rejection he’s become accustomed to over the past twenty-four hours. But at least this time, he can’t say he didn't try. 

But then: "say it again," Robert says.

“What?”

“Those three words.”

And Aaron obliges, because he could say it forever. "I love you. So much"

Robert stares at him — into him — as if he’s searching for the answers to all the questions in the world, for promises and reassurance. He sniffs but it doesn’t do anything to stop his nose from running. He wipes his hand under his red—rimmed eyes and releases a heavy breath. His thumb brushes the corner of Aaron’s mouth.

Aaron breathes, with the smallest hope in his heart and a whole new universe on his tongue; it's into the crackling electricity that's ever—present between their bodies that Robert whispers, and says: “I love you too. God, Aaron, I love you.”

And it’s all Aaron can do to slot their mouths together then. 

He kisses Robert with abandon, with every last ounce of love that he's got to give. He closes his eyes, and gets lost in the achingly familiar sweetness of those lips. It’s November again, his back against the rough wood of the pavilion door, Robert's soothing softness plastered all over his front, the two of them trying to look each other in the eye to see if they both wanted the same thing. It’s two weeks ago, Robert cooking the two of them breakfast, and Aaron grinning and reaching out to kiss him every time he stepped into reach. 

It's every kiss they've ever shared, all at once, but flavoured with something brand new. With knowing just how close they were to never having this again.

Everything is clear, sharp—and suddenly Aaron’s crying, his whole body racking around a sob as he kisses Robert’s mouth harder, storing away the moment in his mind like he can take it with him wherever he’s going, like he can put it in his pocket and it will stay there.

“Rob—” He breathes, nuzzling his forehead against Robert’s, not caring for the crowds around them. His voice breaks as he starts to cry harder. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Robert tilts his head upwards, his mouth landing someplace near Aaron’s ear. “I know,” he whispers, and his voice sounds strained with emotion, like he’s trying hard to keep himself together, and that makes Aaron cry even more. “I know,” Robert whispers again, pressing his mouth to Aaron’s wet eyelids, just feeling. “Me too.”

“You are coming home with me, aren’t you?” Aaron has to question then, squeezing his eyes shut and praying. He wraps an arm around Robert’s waist and it slots right in, like Aaron is a puzzle piece made to fit every dip and curve of Robert’s body.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life,” Robert whispers into his mouth. “Of course I’m coming home with you.”

—

**Later, when moonlight is flooding in through the open windows and coloring Robert’s bedroom silver, Aaron helps Robert put his clothes back in their drawers, where they belong. Where he belongs.**

**Even later, when then they fall into the bed, Aaron kisses him until the world around them blurs and fades out, both of them slipping into a dreams of their future.** **_Together._ **

**—**

_Dear Hotten Academy Confessions,_

_Hey, it’s me. Aaron Dingle._

_I bet I know what you’re all thinking. That whole coming out fiasco, it’s old news now, yeah? I mean, I can joke about it now, but at the time, It felt like my whole world had just ended. But in reality, it was only just beginning. Funny what a little honesty and love can do._

_Anyway, I thought about writing something like this for a while, all anonymous and mysterious, but then I guess that would kinda defeated the whole purpose of what I want to say._

_So here I am. A few months ago, what feels like a lifetime ago now, an anonymous message was posted to this board, and I responded. I’m sure you all remember it, how could you forget? I haven’t forgot, and I don’t think I ever will. What Red said, about being half of a whole, about being stuck on the ferris wheel going up and coming back down, will stick with me forever._

_I know we’ve all been there._

_We’ve all been at rock bottom, scraping the bottom of the barrel for whatever we can find to keep us going. Some of us are still stuck down there searching for a way out. But it won’t stay like that forever, I promise._

_I mean, just take a look at me._

_I was on that roller-coaster for so long. So, so long. But now, I feel more like I’ve reached the top of the Eiffel Tower, and there’s no way down._

_And that’s thanks to one person._

_Red._

_(Or, better known as Robert Sugden.)_

_Robert came into my life years and years ago. And then all over again just a few months ago, when I least expected it. He changed my life, completely rocked my world and quite frankly, terrified me. But I wouldn’t change a second of it for the world._

_I wouldn’t change me boyfriend for the world._

_So, if you’re reading this, I want you to try something new, something that you think might be the end of the world, but has the possibility to be the start of yours. Make that change._

_Finally, I’d like to thank the people who’ve been there for me throughout all of this. Vic, Adam, Holly, and my little sister Liv. Oh, and I suppose I should thank Ross Barton (the massive fucking prick) for outing me, because if it wasn’t for you, I might not be about to take my first holiday with the love off my life. So, cheers for being a twat, Ross._

_Be kind, be brave, be yourself._

_See you around collage._

_Love, Aaron._

**Author's Note:**

> congrats for making it to the end - i'm not sure i would have! 
> 
> kudos and comments are highly appreciated if you enjoyed! thank you thank you thank you <333
> 
> find me on tumblr: @dingletragedy


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